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Photo  by  Moffctt  Studio,  Chicago 
BOOKER  T.  WASHINGTON 


IN    THE   VANGUARD 
OF   A    RACE 

BY  L.  H.  HAMMOND 

Author  of  The  Master  Word,  In  Black  and  White: 
An  Interpretation  of  Southern  Life,  etc. 


Published  jointly  by 
COUNCIL  OF  WOMEN  FOR  HOME  MISSIONS 

and 

MISSIONARY  EDUCATION  MOVEMENT  OF  THE 
UNITED  STATES  AND  CANADA 

NEW  YORK 


LOAN  STACK 


COPYRIGHT,   1922,  BY  THE 
COUNCIL  OF  WOMEN  FOB  HOME  MISSIONS 

AND 

MISSIONARY  EDUCATION  MOVEMENT  OF  THE 
UNITED  STATES  AND  CANADA 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


.. 


TO  THAT  GREAT  COMPANY  OP  NEGRO  WOMEN, 
BOND  AND  FREE,  UNLETTERED  AND  COLLEGE- 
BRED,  WHOSE  LIVING  FAITH  AND  LOVING  SAC 
RIFICES  HAVE  CREATED  AND  ARE  ENRICHING  THE 
IDEALS  OF  A  RACE. 


«  ««*} 


CONTENTS 

PAGB 

PREFACE •      w  ix 

I    A  LONG  ASCENT       ...;.,..         1 
Introduction 

II    A  STORY  OP  SERVICE        .       .       .       .       .       16 
Booker  T.  Washington  and  Robert  R.  Moton 

III  A  DOCTOR  OP  MEDICINE   .       .       .       .       .35 

Dr.  Charles  V.  Roman 

IV  SAVING  AN  IDEA        ......       47 

Miss  Nannie  H.  Burroughs 

V    A  CITY  PASTOR         ......       63 

Dr.  William  N.  DeBerry 

VI    A  BELIEVER  IN  HAPPINESS     .       .       .       .       78 

Mrs.   Janie  Porter  Barrett 

VII    A  BUILDER  OP  PROSPERITY     .       .       >       .       94 

John  B.  Pierce 

VIII    A  WOMAN  BANKER  .       .       .       .       .       .     108 

Mrs.  Maggie  L.  Walker 

IX     "A  COMPOSER  BY  DIVINE  RIGHT"     .-      .     119 

Harry  T.  Burleigh 

X    A  LIGHT  IN  A  DARK  PLACE  .       :.       .       .     131 
Miss  Martha  Drummer 

XI    SURE  FOUNDATIONS  .       .       .<      .-      .       .     148 

Rev.  James  H.  Dunston 

XII    A  SEED  OF  FLAME 162 

Joseph  S.  Cotter,  Jr. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING  PAGE 

Booker  T.  Washington        .       .     Frontispiece 

Tuskegee  Institute 32 

Dr.  Roman's  clinic 40 

Miss  Nannie  H.  Burroughs 48 

Dr.  DeBerry  and  his  staff       .       .       .     '  .       .  64 

Mrs.  Janie  Porter  Barrett         .       .       .       .       .  80 

John  B.  Pierce 96 

Mrs.  Walker's  office  force 112 

Harry  T.  Burleigh 128 

Miss  Martha  Drummer  and  her  school     .       .       .  144 

Rev.  James  H.  Dunston 160 

Joseph  S.  Cotter,  Jr 168 


PREFACE 

PERHAPS  the  most  striking  feature  of  this  book 
is  what  is  not  in  it.  The  material  for  it  was 
sharply  limited  by  reason  of  the  necessity  for 
keeping  it  within  the  size  and  price  of  the  series 
to  which  it  belongs.  Any  general  survey  of  Negro 
literary,  artistic,  educational,  or  business  achieve 
ments  was  prohibited  by  its  biographical  form,  in 
which  it  adheres  to  the  method  adopted  for  a 
group  of  books  already  issued. 

Unless  the  telling  of  their  stories  does  them 
injustice,  the  men  and  women  whose  biographies 
are  included  in  this  book  are  manifestly  worthy 
of  the  rank  accorded  them.  But  any  one  ac 
quainted  with  Negro  life  <3an  furnish  a  much 
longer  list  of  members  of  the  race  quite  as  dis 
tinguished  as  those  here  given  with  the  exception 
of  a  very  few  preeminent  names. 

I  have  felt  especially  the  limitations  in  regard 
to  the  artistic  side  of  Negro  life.  Mr.  Burleigh, 
the  musician  chosen,  speaks  for  himself ;  yet  there 
are  so  many  others  of  whom  the  race  may  well  be 
proud.  Among  painters  there  are  E.  M.  Banister, 
one  of  whose  pictures  was  awarded  a  medal  at  the 
Centennial  Exposition  of  1876 ;  W.  E.  Scott,  whose 
picture,  ' '  The  Poor  Neighbor, ' '  was  purchased  by 
the  Argentine  Eepublic,  and  who  has  done  mural 
paintings  for  many  public  buildings  in  Illinois; 

ix 


x  Preface 

and  Henry  O.  Tanner,  foremost  of  them  all,  who 
is  a  frequent  exhibitor  in  the  Paris  Salon.  Sev 
eral  of  the  latter 's  paintings  have  been  purchased 
by  the  French  Government  and  placed  in  the 
Luxembourg. 

The  honors  as  sculptors  are  with  the  women. 
Edmonia  Lewis's  work  was  accepted  for  the  Cen 
tennial  Exposition ;  Mrs.  Meta  Warrick  Fuller  has 
exhibited  in  the  Paris  Salon  and  executed  a  group 
for  the  Jamestown  Exposition;  and  Mrs.  May 
Howard  Jackson  has  won  high  praise  from  art 
critics  for  work  exhibited  in  the  Corcoran  Art 
Gallery,  Washington. 

Among  actors,  none  who  have  seen  him  will  for 
get  Charles  Gilpin,  who  drew  thousands  of  white 
people  to  his  extraordinary  presentation  in  New 
York  of  "The  Emperor  Jones/'  and  whose  work 
was  listed  by  the  American  Drama  League  among 
the  ten  outstanding  achievements  of  the  American 
stage  in  1921. 

The  list  of  singers  is  long  and  notable.  It  in 
cludes  Eoland  Hayes,  who  has  won  success  in 
Europe  as  well  as  in  America,  and  who  was  re 
cently  presented  with  a  jeweled  pin  by  King 
George  of  England  as  a  token  of  appreciation  of 
his  art.  Joseph  Douglass  and  Clarence  White  are 
both  well-known  violinists,  the  latter  having  also 
won  distinction  as  a  composer.  One  passes  Cole 
ridge-Taylor,  most  distinguished  of  them  all,  only 
because  he  belongs  to  England  rather  than  to 


Preface  xi 

America,  yet,  like  Dumas  and  Pushkin,  he  belongs 
to  the  Negro  race. 

So  with  the  other  groups ;  the  men  and  women 
written  of  are  representative  of  classes.  The  con 
sciousness  of  this  large  and  growing  body  of  lead 
ers  should  be  the  mental  background  against  which 
should  be  set  the  individual  achievements  here 
related. 

One  thing  which  will  doubtless  strike  the  reader 
is  the  frequency  with  which,  at  some  vital  turning- 
point  in  the  lives  narrated,  the  mother's  character 
and  influence  have  been  deciding  factors.  These 
mothers  are  typical  of  unnumbered  thousands 
from  every  level  of  opportunity,  whose  standards 
of  faith,  conscience,  and  self-forgetfulness  have 
shaped  those  of  the  race  and  are  a  light  upon  the 
long,  hard  path  which  it  must  climb  in  the  years 
to  come.  They  show  the  Negro  women  bearing 
their  share  of  the  responsibility  of  womanhood  to 
the  Eace  of  Man.  The  creation  of  ideals,  plant 
ing  them  in  the  hearts  of  children,  unfolding  and 
enriching  them  from  generation  to  generation— 
this,  the  biggest  and  finest  of  all  human  tasks,  is 
preeminently  the  work  of  the  women  of  every  race. 
Like  all  the  big,  essential  things  of  life,  it  may  be 
achieved  by  common  folk  because  it  is  primarily 
of  the  heart  and  not  of  the  head.  We  have  per 
verted  the  original  meaning  of  the  fine  old  word 
"common"  into  something  to  be  regarded  as  in 
ferior;  but  the  things  which  are  common  to  the 


xii  Preface 

"Pace  of  Man  and  to  the  individuals  of  all  races 
e  the  most  precious  possessions  of  every  race, 
.uiowever  wide  and  deep  the  separation  of  the  low 
est  savage  from  the  most  highly  developed  man, 
science  and  religion  alike  declare  that  the  things 
which  they  hold  in  common  and  which  separate 
them  both  from  all  other  creatures  are  wider  and 
deeper  yet. 

The  deepest  of  all  our  common  possessions  is 
a  capacity  for  God.  This  the  Negro  brought  with 
him  from  Africa ;  and  it  was  chiefly  the  Christian 
white  women  of  America,  and  especially  those  of 
the  South,  who  kindled  in  the  Negro  women's  souls 
that  which  this  capacity  awaited — the  light  of 
Christian  ideals.  Notwithstanding  the  evils  and 
wrongs  of  slavery,  in  thousands  of  kitchens, 
nurseries,  and  sewing-rooms  the  house-servants 
of  the  old  days  found  God  through  their  mis 
tresses'  lives  and  took  up  their  predestined  task 
of  making  Him  real  and  lovable  to  their  own  peo 
ple  by  living  in  His  spirit  from  day  to  day. 

So  the  race  advanced,  in  slavery  and  through 
it.  To-day  the  broadening  opportunities  of  its 
leading  women  are  quickening  its  progress;  yet 
the  humbler  women  still  bear  their  vital  part  in 
the  movement.  When  we  think  how  few  genera 
tions  ago  these  Negro  women  had  to  begin  at  the 
beginning,  and  of  the  ages  through  which  our  own 
women  have  been  lifting  our  ideals,  we  must  ad 
mit  that  the  Negro  women  are  entitled,  not  only 


Preface  xiii 

to  our  sympathy,  but  to  our  respect  and  coopera 
tion.  The  advance  of  both  races  largely  depends 
upon  the  extent  to  which  this  respect  and  coopera 
tion  are  given  henceforth.  In  a  book  like  this,  only 
glimpses  can  be  given  of  the  growing  recognition 
of  this  fact  by  both  white  and  colored  women ;  but 
it  is  the  biggest  and  most  hopeful  of  all  the  hope 
ful  facts  in  the  wide  field  of  interracial  relations 
to-day. 

The  authorities  for  the  historical  and  scientific 
statements  made  in  the  first  chapter  of  the  book 
are  Green's  Short  History  of  the  English  People, 
Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  Campbell's  The  Puritan  in 
England,  Holland  and  America,  Wells 's  Outline 
of  History,  Kipling's  Short  History  of  England, 
and  Scott  Elliot's  Prehistoric  Man. 

For  various  statements  in  regard  to  the  Negroes 
and  interracial  relations  before  the  Civil  War,  the 
writer  has  referred  to  Washington's  Story  of  the 
American  Negro,  Brawley's  Short  History  of  the 
American  Negro,  Helper's  The  Impending  Crisis, 
an  anti-slavery  book  by  a  white  North  Carolinian 
published  four  years  before  the  Civil  War,  and  the 
Negro  Year  Book,  compiled  by  Monroe  N.  Work, 

f  Tuskegee  Institute. 

In  conclusion,   I   would   thank   the   following 

j  mends  and  helpers  for  information,  advice,  and 

many  kindnesses  in  the  preparation  of  my  book: 

Miss  Ida  A.  Tourtellot  of  the  Phelps-Stokes  Foun- 


xiv  Preface 

dation,  Miss  Flora  Mitchell  of  the  "Woman's  Home 
Missionary  Society  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  Mrs.  Booker  T.  "Washington  of  Tuskegee, 
Mr.  Jackson  Davis  of  the  General  Education 
Board,  Mr.  N.  C.  Newbold  of  the  North  Carolina 
State  Department  of  Education,  Mr.  W.  T.  B. 
Williams  of  the  Jeanes  and  Slater  Boards,  Pro 
fessor  G.  Lake  Lnes  of  Tuskegee,  and  Dr.  A.  M. 
Moore  of  Durham,  North  Carolina. 

L.  H.  HAMMOND 

1922. 


IN  THE  VANGUARD  OF  A  RACE 


A  LONG  ASCENT 

Slow  moves  the  pageant  of  a  climbing  race. 
— Paul  Laurence  Dunbar 

BETWEEN  fifteen  and  sixteen  hundred  years 
ago  England  was  a  rich  and  peaceful  coun 
try  with  many  prosperous  cities  connected 
by  splendid  roads.  Ships  from  all  parts  of  the 
known  world  came  to  her  harbors  bringing  rich 
cargoes  and  carrying  back  grain,  wool,  furs,  and 
tin.  Churches  stood  in  many  towns,  and  the 
homes  of  the  wealthy  dotted  the  country.  These 
homes  were  built  of  stone  and  marble,  with  beau 
tiful  gardens  about  them.  They  were  heated  by 
furnaces  and  piped  for  running  water  which 
flowed  into  splendid  marble  baths  and  fountains. 
The  law  of  Rome  ruled  from  the  Channel  to  Sol- 
way  Firth  and  had  ruled,  unopposed,  for  two  hun 
dred  and  fifty  years.  The  island,  prosperous  and 
increasingly  Christian,  was  part  of  the  highest 
civilization  the  world  had  ever  known,  for  Eome, 
after  her  fashion,  had  first  conquered  the  wild 
heathen  Britons  mercilessly,  and  then  tamed  and 
taught  them  and  blessed  them  with  peace  and  pros 
perity. 

Then  came  the  pirates,  swooping  down  before 
the  north  wind  in  their  queer  little  ships,  each 
oarsman  bent  on  plunder  and  ready  for  any 

i 


2  'In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

cruelty  to  obtain  it.  Huge,  red-haired,  blue-eyed 
fellows  they  were,  these  English  ancestors  of  ours, 
heathen  barbarians  every  one,  bold,  cruel,  and 
bloodthirsty.  Their  gods  were  like  themselves, 
and  they  believed  in  a  heaven  to  which  only  those 
who  died  in  battle  could  go  and  in  which  they 
could  drink  and  boast  of  their  bold  deeds  forever. 

Britain  was  a  fat  and  fertile  land,  and  these 
Angles  meant  to  have  it;  but  they  wanted  no 
Britons  in  it,  and  they  left  none.  The  churches 
and  priests  they  especially  hated,  burning  the 
former  and  slaying  the  latter  on  their  own  altars. 
They  destroyed  the  beautiful  country  houses  and 
left  city  after  city  a  heap  of  ruins  "without  fire, 
without  light,  without  songs. " 

For  fifty  years  they  fought  and  pillaged  and 
butchered  and  made  slaves.  By  that  time  all  the 
eastern  half  of  England  was  theirs.  It  took  them 
a  hundred  and  fifty  more  years  to  root  out  the 
last  Britons,  for  the  dark  little  folk  fought  bravely 
and  long ;  but  at  last  they  were  all  gone,  and  with 
them  civilization  and  Christianity.  Britain  was 
England  now,  a  wild  heathen  country  where  our 
forefathers  lived  in  rude  huts  open  to  the  weather. 
They  ate  and  drank  like  gluttons  and  fought  one 
another  like  wild  beasts. 

They  lived  in  little  villages  made  up  of  kins 
folk,  with  marshes  or  forests  around  them,  or  per 
haps  both,  as  a  protection  from  the  men  of  other 
villages  whose  pirate  instincts  might  set  them  on 


A  Long  'Ascent  3 

the  war-path  against  their  neighbors.  They  had 
very  few  horses  and  plowed  with  oxen.  They 
raised  sheep  for  wool  and  cattle  for  plowing. 
Their  usual  meat  came  from  their  droves  of  hogs. 
Each  village  had  a  swineherd  who  took  all  the 
pigs  to  the  forest  every  day,  where  they  could 
root  for  acorns  and  other  food. 

A  stranger  was  always  considered  an  enemy 
until  he  proved  himself  a  friend,  and  often,  to 
be  on  the  safe  side,  they  killed  him  anyway,  and 
bothered  no  more  about  him.  After  a  while 
a  law  was  made  that  when  a  stranger  came  to  the 
woods  or  marsh  about  a  village,  he  should  blow 
a  horn  to  show  that  he  came  honestly  and  openly, 
not  trying  to  sneak  in  to  murder  or  rob.  If  he 
failed  to  blow  a  horn  or  if  nobody  heard  him  blow, 
he  was  to  be  killed  on  sight. 

A  hundred  years  after  these  savage  men  came 
to  Britain,  it  was  written  of  them  that  they  were 
" barbarians, "  "wolves,"  "dogs,"  "whelps  from 
the  kennels  of  barbarism,"  "hateful  to  God  and 
man."  In  France  and  Spain  and  Italy  when  bar 
barians  overthrew  the  power  of  Eome,  they  settled 
down  among  the  cultivated  people  they  had  con 
quered,  learned  their  language,  adopted  their  laws 
and  customs,  and  took  on  civilized  ways ;  but  the 
men  who  came  to  England  made  a  clean  sweep  of 
all  these  things.  They  did  not  even  keep  many  of 
the  Britons  alive  as  slaves,  they  made  slaves  of 
one  another.  When  village  fought  with  village 


4  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

or,  long  afterward,  when  one  little  king  whom  the 
growing  tribes  set  up  fought  another,  the  captives, 
nobles  and  slaves  alike,  were  made  slaves  by  their 
captors.  Sometimes  they  were  taken  to  their  con 
queror's  home,  or,  frequently,  they  were  sold  to 
pirate  vessels  that  carried  them  to  the  slave- 
markets  of  southern  Europe. 

It  was  the  sight  of  some  of  these  English  slaves 
put  up  for  sale  in  Italy  that  led  to  missionaries 
being  sent  once  more  to  what  had  been  Christian 
Britain,  and  which  was  now  heathen  for  a  second 
time.  Missionaries  came,  too,  from  Ireland,  at 
this  time  one  of  the  brightest  spots  in  a  dark  and 
troubled  world.  Eoman  Britain  had  furnished 
many  Christian  martyrs  when  the  savage  Eng 
lishmen  first  came,  and  now  Irish  and  Eoman 
Christians  came  to  this  wild  and  cruel  land,  not 
counting  their  lives  dear  to  themselves  if  only  they 
could  win  the  heathen  to  the  gospel. 

It  took  two  hundred  years  to  establish  Chris 
tianity  firmly  on  the  island,  for  now  and  again 
there  would  occur  relapses  into  heathenism  when 
some  petty  king  arose  who  preferred  to  worship 
Odin  rather  than  Christ. 

Sometimes  we  hear  people  say  that  foreign 
missions  to-day  accomplish  very  little  in  China 
or  India  or  Japan.  See  how  few  Christians  those 
countries  have,  they  say,  after  trying  for  a  hun 
dred  years  to  convert  them!  That  is  not  quite 


rA  Long  Ascent  5 

true,  for  it  is  not  much  over  a  hundred  years 
since  the  pioneer  of  modern  missions  in  China, 
Eobert  Morrison,  went  there.  At  that  time  most 
Christian  people  who  knew  about  him  thought  him 
crazy,  or  silly,  at  best,  and  for  long  years  the 
Church  did  almost  nothing  for  missions.  It  is  only 
in  the  last  fifty  years  that  it  has  made  any  great 
effort  as  a  whole.  Fifty  years  among  hundreds 
of  millions  of  heathen ! 

In  the  days  when  the  Eoman  and  Irish  mis 
sionaries  came  to  Britain,  the  English  could  have 
been  counted  by  only  the  hundred  thousand. 
Even  a  thousand  years  after  missionaries  came  to 
England,  there  were  only  five  or  six  million  peo 
ple  in  the  whole  country — about  as  many  as  in 
the  city  of  New  York  to-day.  Yet  it  took  two  hun 
dred  years  to  make  our  ancestors  Christian,  even 
in  name.  We  should  remember  this  when  we  feel 
like  criticizing  people  of  other  races  whose  prog 
ress  we  think  is  slow.  And  we  should  think  of  it, 
too,  when  people  ask  if  missions  pay.  Has  it  paid 
to  have  a  Christian  England  in  the  world? 

For  a  long  time  a  tribe  was  Christian  or  heathen 
only  as  its  "king"  ordered  it  out  either  for  bap 
tism  or  for  worship  of  Odin.  However,  some  of 
these  early  Englishmen  made  noble  Christians. 
But  it  was  not  until  Elizabeth  became  queen,  a 
thousands  years  later,  that  Christianity  had  gone 
deep  enough  for  the  people  to  take  such  a  stand 
for  the  open  Bible  that  their  rulers  did  not  dare 


6  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

to  forbid  it  to  them  or  to  kill  those  who  disobeyed. 
And  so,  all  down  the  centuries  are  scattered  the 
shining  names  of  those  who  greatly  lived  or 
greatly  died  for  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ. 

They  were  splendidly  brave,  these  early  Eng 
lishmen.  They  always  had  been  brave,  even  as 
savages,  with  a  rough,  cruel,  selfish  courage,  but 
now  they  were  brave  for  finer  reasons.  It  was 
not  only  for  personal  gain  and  glory  that  Drake 
sailed  unknown  and  dreaded  seas  and  carried  the 
flag  of  England  around  the  world.  It  was  with 
no  thought  of  self  that  Philip  Sidney  fought  free 
dom  's  battle  in  Holland,  or  that  he  refused,  in 
his  dying  agony,  to  relieve  his  own  raging  thirst 
that  the  water  might  be  given  to  one  suffering 
more  than  he.  It  was  a  glorious  day  when  little 
England  faced  the  great  Spanish  Armada  to  die, 
if  need  be,  for  God  and  freedom.  Nor  can  any  of 
English  blood  forget  Ridley  and  Latimer  and  all 
that  noble  army  of  martyrs  who,  in  Mary's  time, 
passed  through  the  fire  up  to  God  rather  than  deny 
their  faith.  The  barbarians  had  come  far  in  a 
thousand  years. 

But  Christian  though  they  had  become  in  Eliza 
beth's  time,  there  were  still  many  of  their  ways 
and  thoughts  which  seem  neither  civilized  nor 
Christian  to  us  who  live  over  three  hundred  years 
later.  A  climbing  race  moves  slowly,  and  behind 
the  shining  banners  of  those  who  lead  skulk  ugly 
things  and  wicked  and  stupid  things  which  most 


A  Long  'Ascent  7 

of  the  people  do  not  yet  know  are  ugly  or  stupid 
or  wicked,  and  so  permit  them.  Along  with 
all  the  noble  things  and  the  splendid  intellectual 
power  of  Elizabeth's  reign  went  others,  disgust 
ing  and  barbarous— after  a  thousand  years !  Pun 
ishments  were  many  and  horrible.  Mutilation, 
torture,  and  death  were  meted  out  for  petty  of 
fenses.  The  sight  of  bodies  hanging  by  the  road 
side  and  falling  into  decay  was  not  uncommon. 
The  people  lived  in  filth.  Garbage  and  sewage 
were  habitually  emptied  into  the  middle  of  Lon 
don's  streets,  where  it  rotted  and  bred  disease  and 
smelled  to  heaven.  The  people  had  very  little 
knowledge  of  washing  their  bodies.  The  queen 
had  three  thousand  dresses ;  but  most  people  had 
only  one  and  wore  that  one  day  and  night  till  it 
dropped  to  rags.  Underclothes,  if  worn,  were 
never  washed.  Few,  even  of  the  rich,  had  carpets, 
and  those  they  had  were  used  for  table-covers. 
The  floors  were  of  dirt  or,  in  grand  houses,  of 
wood  or  stone  covered  with  rushes  into  which 
bones  and  other  refuse  of  meals  were  thrown  as 
people  sat  at  table.  Forks  were  just  beginning  to 
be  known  among  the  wealthy,  anc?  it  was  quite 
proper  to  eat  with  one's  fingers  and  dip  them  into 
the  dishes  as  well.  Chimneys  began  to  come  into 
use  at  about  this  time.  Before  this,  smoke  got 
out  as  best  it  could  at  openings  in  the  walls! 
These  openings,  which  were  without  glass,  let  in 
both  the  light  and  the  weather. 


8  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Some  of  the  prevailing  ideas  of  justice  were 
much  more  like  those  of  our  pirate  ancestors  than 
like  our  own.  The  men  who  first  made  England 
famous  on  the  seas  were  freebooters  and  traders 
in  human  flesh.  Many  of  the  great  fortunes  piled 
up  in  the  last  half  of  Elizabeth's  reign  were  made 
by  seizing  unarmed  ships  of  friendly  countries — 
even  those  of  Protestant  Holland — and  appro 
priating  their  cargoes.  Hawkins,  one  of  the  sea- 
heroes  of  his  day,  began  England's  slave-trade 
with  a  cargo  of  Negroes  he  kidnaped  on  the  Afri 
can  coast  and  sold  in  the  West  Indies.  This  traffic 
was  legal  in  England  and  in  America  until  a  little 
over  a  hundred  years  ago.  The  last  serfs  of  Eng 
lish  blood  in  England  were  freed  by  Elizabeth  in 
1574,  but  long  after  that,  Englishmen  were 
shipped  to  the  American  colonies  and  sold  as 
slaves  as  a  punishment  for  crime  or  for  political 
offenses. 

Over  three  hundred  years  have  passed  since 
these  conditions  prevailed,  and  the  higher  a  na 
tion  climbs,  the  faster  it  can  go.  We  have  come 
further,  as  a  people,  in  the  last  three  hundred 
years  than  in  the  previous  thousand  years.  Who 
can  say  what  heights  are  ahead?  Would  any  of 
those  Christian  Britons  have  believed  when 
Roman  civilization  was  being  blotted  out  by  the 
English  barbarians  that  that  same  race  would  one 
day  stand  as  one  of  the  world's  great  bulwarks  of 
justice  among  men,  creators  of  wonders  beyond 


A  Long  'Ascent  9 

the  dreams  of  magic,  with  ideals  that  reached  the 
stars?  Yet  all  this  we  have  seen  come  to  pass 
in  England  and  in  America  in  these  last  few  years. 
We  are  yet  far  from  where  we  would  be.  There 
are  wrongs  and  injustices  still  to  give  way  before 
God's  laws  of  justice  and  kindness  rule  us  all. 
How  soon  this  comes  to  pass  depends  largely  on 
the  young  people  now  coming  into  power.  If  we 
assume  that  our  own  race  is  already  on  the 
heights,  it  will  never  attain  its  highest  possible 
plane  through  help  of  ours.  If  we  forget  our  own 
slow  and  incomplete  progress  as  a  race  or  despise 
others  who  are  climbing  the  same  hard  and  painful 
path,  we  shall  be,  not  lifters  of  mankind,  but  a 
stumbling  block  in  the  path  of  the  human  race. 


The  part  of  Africa  best  known  to  us  is  the  little 
strip  around  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  But  this, 
so  far  as  we  can  tell,  was  not  settled  by  Negroes, 
but  by  peoples  who  came  out  of  Asia  in  widely- 
separated  times.  South  of  these  lands  lived  the 
Negroes,  of  whose  life  at  that  time  little  is  known. 
Few  explorations  have  been  made  south  of  Egypt, 
though  at  one  point,  Zimbabwe,  the  ruins  of  a  van 
ished  civilization  have  been  found. 

For  hundreds  of  years  the  upper  western  coast 
of  Africa  was  raided  by  white  pirates,  most  of 
them  English,  and  the  people  were  kidnaped  and 
sold  as  slaves.  Probably  for  thousands  of  years 
east  coast  was  raided  in  the  same  way  by 


10  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Arabs  and  other  Asiatics,  but  except  along  the 
coast,  the  continent  was  almost  unknown  to  white 
men  until  within  the  memory  of  men  now  living. 
Between  1850  and  1900  the  land  was  explored,  and 
European  nations  seized  it  for  themselves  as 
though  the  people  who  had  lived  there  for  thou 
sands  of  years  had  no  rights  in  it  at  all.  The  only 
parts  of  Africa  still  belonging  to  Negroes  are 
Abyssinia  and  the  little  country  of  Liberia.  These 
fifty  years  and  the  twenty  following  have  seen 
thousands  of  white  men  from  Europe  and  Amer 
ica  flocking  in — missionaries,  explorers,  traders, 
men  bent  on  service  and  men  bent  on  ruthless  gain 
- — until  Africa's  geography  and  races  are  fairly 
well  known. 

The  oldest  races  are  the  pygmies  of  the  Congo 
and  of  South  Africa.  They  are  a  queer  little  folk 
who,  Professor  Elliot  says  in  his  Prehistoric  Man, 
"seem  to  have  been  the  very  first  race  to  under 
stand  and  realize  the  importance  of  botany.  " 
Their  knowledge  of  plants  is  quite  wonderful. 
They  are  also  "clever  artists  and  musicians,  and 
may  be  the  inventors  of  the  first  violin."  But 
they  are  a  very  savage  little  people  for  all  that 
and  very  deadly  to  their  enemies  by  reason  of 
their  cunningly-poisoned  weapons.  Between  them 
and  the  Zulus  and  people  of  Uganda,  the  most 
highly  developed  of  the  many  African  races,  are 
peoples  as  varied  as  those  of  eastern  Europe  or 
Asia  and  of  many  grades  of  intelligence.  Many 


A  Long  'Ascent  11 

of  them  are  clever  iron-workers.  In  fact  iron  is 
believed  to  have  been  made  into  tools  and  weapons 
in  Africa  long  before  Europe  learned  its  uses  and 
even  while  our  own  forefathers  still  had  no  tools 
but  flints. 

But  except  for  its  sea-coasts,  Africa  has  been 
cut  off  for  ages  from  the  rest  of  the  world.  In 
Europe  and  Asia  men  passed  back  and  forth  so 
that  what  was  learned  in  one  place,  sooner  or  later 
became  known  in  others.  Isolated  people  can 
not  learn  very  fast,  and  Africa,  in  some  respects 
ahead  of  Europe  when  we  were  all  savages  to 
gether,  seems  to  have  stood  still  while  other  coun 
tries  have  forged  far  ahead  of  her. 

Among  Americans  the  first  knowledge  of  Afri 
cans  came  through  the  Negroes  who  had  been 
stolen  from  their  homes  by  Dutch  and  English 
pirates  and  sold  in  the  colonies  as  slaves.  Later, 
Americans  joined  in  this  trade.  It  must  be  re 
membered  that  Christian  nations  had  no  idea,  in 
those  days,  that  they  should  behave  like  Christians 
to  savages.  Wicked  things  went  on  because  good 
people  did  not  understand  it  was  their  duty  to 
stop  them.  When  some  of  the  unjust  things  still 
allowed  by  Christian  people  are  put  a  stop  to,  it 
will  be  by  the  same  steps  that  ended  first  the 
slave-trade  and  then  slavery. 

First  a  few  people  who  best  understood  God's 
thoughts  of  justice  began  to  talk  and  write  and 
work  against  the  slave-trade.  They  were  mis- 


12  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

understood,  laughed  at,  and  abused  just  as  are 
the  people  who  nowadays  fight  social  abuses.  But 
they  kept  right  on  until  more  and  more  people 
understood  what  was  right,  and  then,  in  1807,  laws 
were  passed  forbidding  slave-trading  in  England 
and  America.  Since  that  time  England,  where 
only  two  hundred  years  before  Christian  Eng 
lishmen  had  sold  their  own  countrymen  into  slav 
ery  in  the  colonies,  has  led  the  world  in  trying  to 
end  slavery  everywhere. 

In  our  country  some  people,  North  and  South, 
defended  slavery  by  saying  that  the  Negroes  had 
not  sense  enough  to  rise  much  above  the  animals, 
and  that  God  meant  them  to  be  ruled  as  such.  But 
the  Negroes  themselves  proved  this  to  be  untrue. 
From  the  very  beginning,  among  the  slaves 
brought  here  from  Africa  were  some  gifted  men 
and  women  who  showed  unusual  mental  ability. 
Phillis  Wheatley,  born  in  Africa,  wrote  a  book 
of  poems  which  ran  through  three  editions  and! 
won  her  recognition  in  England  and  America.  Ira 
Aldridge,  whose  father  came  from  Africa,  be 
came  an  actor  and  was  decorated  by  the  Emper 
ors  of  Austria  and  Russia  and  by  the  King  of 
Prussia.  Edmund  Kean,  the  great  English 
actor,  played  lago  to  his  Othello.  Sojourner 
Truth,  born  in  Africa,  and  Frederick  Douglass, 
born  a  slave  in  Maryland,  both  became  famous 
as  speakers  against  slavery.  Douglass  was  well 
known  in  England,  and  in  his  later  life  he  not 


'A  Long  'Ascent  13 

only  saw  his  great  hope  for  his  people  realized, 
but  found  himself  their  trusted  leader.  Harriet 
Tubman,  born  a  slave  in  Maryland,  ran  away 
when  about  twenty  years  old;  but  instead  of  en 
joying  a  peaceful  freedom,  she  spent  her  life, 
until  the  Civil  War,  in  helping  others  of  her 
people  to  freedom,  often  at  the  cost  of  great 
risk  and  hardship  to  herself.  She  showed  an 
ability,  courage,  and  resourcefulness  which 
would  have  been  remarkable  anywhere.  In  the 
Eevolutionary  War,  Negroes  fought  bravely,  as 
they  have  in  every  subsequent  war  of  ours. 

Many  of  the  old  slaves  were  noted  for  their 
eloquence  as  preachers.  John  Chavis,  of  North 
Carolina,  was  the  first  home  missionary  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church;  and  John  Stewart,  who 
went  as  a  missionary  to  the  Indians,  is  said  to 
have  been  the  first  missionary  of  the  Methodist 
Church.  Caesar  Blackwell,  an  Alabama  slave, 
was  bought  by  the  Alabama  Baptist  Convention 
for  $1,000.  As  he  could  not  be  set  free,  a  white 
man  was  made  his  guardian,  and  he  was  given 
practical  freedom,  traveling  with  the  white 
preachers  and  helping  them  in  their  work. 
Amanda  Smith,  another  slave,  became  a  great 
evangelist,  preaching  not  only  in  America,  but  in 
England,  India,  and  Africa.  John  Jasper,  of 
Eichmond,  a  slave  for  fifty-two  years  and  a 
preacher  for  sixty,  had  the  respect  of  all  Eich 
mond,  white  and  black;  and  Jack,  another  Vir- 


14  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

ginia  slave,  born  in  Africa,  was  considered  by 
men  of  both  races  the  best  preacher  in  his  county. 
Many  white  people  were  converted  under  him, 
and  plantation  owners,  instead  of  punishing  their 
slaves  who  did  wrong,  sent  them  to  Jack  to  be 
disciplined.  The  white  people  of  his  county 
bought  his  freedom  and  gave  him  a  house  and 
land,  that  he  might  give  his  whole  time  to  his 
work.  Alexander  Crummell,  whose  father  was  a 
native  African,  graduated  from  Cambridge,  Eng 
land,  and  went  to  Africa  as  a  missionary.  After 
ward  he  came  back  to  America  and  was  long  the 
rector  of  an  Episcopal  church  in  Washington.  A 
number  of  these  old-time  Negroes  gained  distinc 
tion  as  composers  of  music  and  as  singers,  some 
of  them  being  recognized  in  Europe. 

These  and  many  others  stand  out  from  the 
great  mass  of  Negroes  who  were  slaves  in  Amer 
ica.  But  back  of  the  more  gifted  folk  is  that 
great  throng  whom  the  white  people  of  the  South 
learned  to  love  and  trust :  the  men  who  gave  their 
masters  honest  service;  the  women  who  kept  the 
house,  cared  for  the  children,  were  faithful  in  all 
things,  and  whose  lives  and  teaching  made  Chris 
tianity  real  to  their  little  white  charges.  A  race 
that  can  keep  faith  in  slavery,  can  keep  faith  in 
freedom.  There  is  proof  enough  from  the  days 
of  the  early  slave  ships  that  among  the  captives 
were  men  of  business  ability,  of  intelligence,  and 
of  various  and  worthy  gifts.  But  after  all,  the 


A  Long  'Ascent  15 

possibilities  of  a  people  cannot  be  measured 
wholly  or  chiefly  by  their  brains.  Character  is 
worth  far  more,  and  where  we  find  so  much  of  it 
among  a  people,  we  may  be  sure  that  as  a  race 
they  may  yet  go  far.  They  need  time  and  oppor 
tunity.  We  ourselves,  the  scientists  tell  us,  have 
been  learning  some  hundreds  of  thousands  of 
years ;  yet  as  a  people,  we  are  only  beginning  to 
learn  that  first  great  law  of  justice — to  love  our 
neighbors  as  ourselves. 

We  like  to  believe  that  the  men  and  women  of 
loving  hearts,  noble  minds,  and  heroic  lives  who 
through  the  centuries  stand  out  from  the  mass  of 
our  own  race,  foreshadow  the  destiny  of  the  race 
itself  when  it  has  had  full  time  for  growth  and 
training.  This  book,  in  giving  the  life-stories  of 
a  very  few  of  our  fellow-citizens  of  African 
blood,  would  lead  you  to  think  of  their  race  in 
the  same  way.  May  you  not  only  respect  the> 
achievements  of  to-day  and  yesterday,  but  see 
them  as  f ore shado wings  of  the  possibilities  of  a 
people.  How  fast  they  climb  will  depend  in  large 
part  on  us,  on  our  faithfulness  to  our  common 
Lord,  and  on  our  obedience  to  His  big,  simple 
laws  of  justice  and  kindness  to  all. 


II 

A  STORY  OP  SERVICE 


D<>WN  in  Alabama  is  a,  big  school  called  Tus 
kogoo    Institute,  covering  2,.'N)0  acres   of 
hind.     Then*  are  on  the  ground  one  him 
<lrod  and  twonty  'buildings  built  mostly  of  brick, 
with   stone   trimmings.     Tim   bricks   wore   made 
and   Mm  buildings  worn  put  up  by   MM*  students, 
hundreds  of  whom  bavo  in  this  way  been  able  to 
pay  their  way  tbrougb  HC.hnol.     Without  MfiH  op 
portunity,    they    could    havn    bad    no    education 
worth  lli«-  name. 

There  urn  big  brick  dormitories  and  a  groat 
dining  hall  with  windows  on  all  sides  and  a.  gal 
lery  whom,  on  state  occasions,  Mm  Tuskogoo  band 
plays  beautiful  music.  And  the  food  in  the  big, 
spot  less  kitchens!  The  mom  sight  of  it,  makes 
the  visitor V  mouth  water.  There  is  a  beautiful 
chapel  seating  over  two  thousand  poop  In,  with  a 
place  for  a,  choir  of  live  hundred,  whose  singing, 
onoo  hoard,  is  imvor  forgotten—  thorn  is  not  any 
thing  quite  like  it  anywhere  else.  There  is  a 
handsome  library,  a  line  hospital,  buildings  for 
•  •!  <'S  and  industries  of  all  kinds,  a  wonderful 
pOWer-houso  which  supplies  light  and  beat  for 
the  wlmlo  place,  from  the  lamps  that  twinkle,  at 

Ml 


A   til  or u  of  Service  17 


dusk  over  thn  campus  to  thn  nneessities  of  the 
tfest  of  nil  thn  hi;-;  buildings. 

There  in  a  Jar^n  farm,  with  IwrnH  for  cattle, 
horses,  shnep,  pitfs,  poultry,  and  farm  machinery. 
Why,  H'<  n-  isn't  room  in  this  hook  to  tell  about 
nil  (here  is  at  Tuskegee,  much  less  ahont  all  that 
is  -Ion.-  lln-iv.  HIM-  must  ••,<»  and  ;.«•<•  for  OIK-  ..If. 
rrhe  value  of  the  whole  plant  is  nearly  two  mil 
lion  dollars,  and  thn  endowment  nearly  two  mil 
lion  and  a  quarter  more;  and  every  penny  is 
wisely  invested  and  yields  wonderful  return:  . 

These  are  thn  things  at  Tuske^ee.  Then-  Is 
also  that  which  things  are  made  to  serve  life  in 
thn  making.  Sitting  on  the  r.hnprl  platform, 
looking  into  two  thousand  faces  dark  of  skin  yrl. 
alight  with  ea#er,  intelligent  Interest,  watching 
lh«-  students  march  out,  trim  and  spotless,  with 
heads  erect  and  steady  step,  one  sees  heyond, 
question  that,  like  our  own,  thn  Ne^ro  is  "a 


students  at  Tuskegee  o/ornn  from  most  of 
our  stales,  from  thn  West  Indies,  and  from  tho 
countries  of  far  off  Africa,  and  they  #o  back  to 
all  these,  places  to  show  in  their  daily  livnn  that 
skilled  bands  should  K°  with  skilled  brains  and 
that  character  and  the  spirit  of  service  nrn  thn 
finest  things  in  tho  world.  Tnskc^eo  has  trans 
formed  thousands  of  homnn  and  of  livns.  II  hns 
changed  the  people  in  whole  stretches  of  country. 
If  has  brought  hope,  knowledge,  Bolf-r< 


18  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

thrift,  independence,  and  happiness  to  thousands 
all  over  the  South.  It  has  promoted  friendship 
and  understanding  between  the  races  in  every 
Southern  state.  It  is  known  and  honored  all  over 
the  world,  and  educators  and  statesmen  of  many 
races  and  countries  travel  thousands  of  miles  to 
see  the  Institute  and  learn  its  ways. 

Now  a  great  institution  like  this  does  not 
spring  up  overnight  like  a  mushroom.  Where 
did  Tuskegee  begin? 

It  began  with  a  little  black  slave  baby.  His 
mother,  a  slave  in  Virginia,  could  not  read  or 
write  and  knew  little  of  anything  except  cook 
ing.  She  never  could  tell  her  little  boy  just  when 
he  was  born,  but  she  thought  it  was  in  1858  or 
1859. 

There  were  three  children,  and  they  and  their 
mother  lived  in  a  one-roomed  cabin  that  had  a 
dirt  floor,  a  rickety  door  with  cracks  all  round 
it,  and  holes  in  the  walls  instead  of  windows. 
There  was  no  furniture,  and  only  rags  on  the 
floor  to  sleep  on.  It  was  frightfully  cold  in  win 
ter — almost  like  outdoors,  and  in  summer  it  was 
frightfully  hot,  for  the  mother  had  to  cook  for 
all  the  slaves  by  a  roaring  log  fire  in  the  big  fire 
place.  The  children  ate  around  a  skillet,  fishing 
the  food  out  with  their  fingers.  They  each  wore 
one  little  cotton  garment.  In  short,  their  way  of 
living  was  quite  like  that  of  the  red-haired,  blue- 
eyed  pirates  who  came  to  Britain  long  ago. 


A  Story  of  Service  19 

The  little  boy  had  only  one  name — Booker. 
The  Civil  War  ended  when  he  was  six  or  seven 
years  old.  Already  he  had  been  at  work  for  some 
time.  He  helped  clean  the  yard,  carried  water  to 
the  men  in  the  fields,  fanned  the  flies  off  the  white 
folks'  table  at  meal-times,  and  carried  corn  to 
the  mill  to  be  ground.  He  was  so  little  that  he 
and  his  bag  of  corn  had  to  be  lifted  on  to  the 
horse.  Often  they  would  both  slip  off  to  the 
road.  Then  Booker  would  have  to  wait,  some 
times  for  hours,  till  some  one  came  along  who 
would  take  pity  on  the  crying,  frightened  child 
and  put  him  and  his  bag  on  the  horse  again. 
Often  when  he  reached  home,  it  was  far  into  the 
cold,  black  night,  and  he  would  still  be  terrified 
from  coming  through  the  dark  woods  along  the 
road. 

After  freedom  came,  the  family  moved  to  West 
Virginia,  the  little  boy  walking  most  of  the  long 
mountainous  way,  and  all  of  them  sleeping  by  the 
road  at  night.  They  went  to  Maiden,  near 
Charleston,  where  Booker's  step-father,  his  older 
brother  John,  and  even  Booker  himself  went  to 
work  in  the  salt  mines,  beginning  work  as  early 
as  four  o  'clock  in  the  morning. 

The  boy  had  always  been  determined  to  learn 
to  read,  and  when  his  mother  somehow  got  him 
an  old  blue-backed  speller,  he  learned  the  alpha 
bet  without  a  teacher.  He  was  only  eight  or  nine 
years  old  when  he  persuaded  some  one  to  teach 


20  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

him  a  little  at  night,  when  the  long  day's  work  in 
the  mines  was  over.  Sometime  later,  a  school  for 
Negroes  was  opened,  and  for  a  little  while 
Booker  was  allowed  to  attend  it  by  getting  up 
extra  early  for  work  in  the  mine  before  school  and 
by  working  again  when  school  was  out.  The  first 
day  he  went  to  school,  the  teacher  asked  all  the 
children  their  names.  Booker  noticed  that  the 
others  had  two  or  three  names.  When  his  turn 
came,  he  made  up  a  last  name  for  himself,  saying, 
"Booker  Washington."  Afterward  he  found 
that  when  he  was  a  tiny  baby  he  had  been  called 
Booker  Taliaferro,  so  he  took  Taliaferro  for  his 
middle  name. 

As  the  years  went  on,  the  boy  worked  in  a  coal 
mine  and  later  as  a  house-servant,  but  always 
with  the  thirst  for  an  education  in  his  heart.  At 
last  he  heard  of  Hampton,  where  boys  might 
earn  enough  to  pay  for  their  education  by  work 
ing  part  of  the  time  on  the  farm  and  in  the  shops. 
He  went  to  Hampton,  walking  most  of  the  dis 
tance,  sleeping  out  of  doors,  working  along  the 
way  for  money  to  buy  food,  but  hungry  much 
of  the  time.  He  reached  Hampton  tired  out  and 
so  dirty  and  shabby,  having  had  no  chance  for  so 
long  a  time  to  wash  or  change  his  clothes,  that  he 
looked  like  a  tramp.  The  teacher  who  first  saw 
him  did  not  like  to  admit  him.  Finally,  however, 
she  told  him  to  go  and  sweep  one  of  the  rooms. 
He  wanted  to  study  books,  not  sweep  floors;  but 


'A  Story  of  Service  21 

instead  of  crying  or  getting  angry,  he  saw  his 
chance  and  took  advantage  of  it.  This  spirit  ex 
plains  much  of  the  secret  of  his  wonderful  life. 
So  instead  of  a  book,  Booker  took  a  hroom  and, 
without  knowing  it,  showed  the  teacher  the  kind 
of  boy  he  was.  He  swept  that  room  three  times, 
— closets,  corners,  and  all.  Then  he  dusted  it 
four  times,  furniture  and  woodwork  too.  When 
he  called  her,  how  that  teacher  hunted  for 
dirt!  When  she  couldn't  see  any,  she  took  out 
her  pocket-handkerchief  and  rubbed  suspicious 
places,  but  not  a  speck  could  she  get  on  it. 
' i Well,  boy,"  said  she,  "I  guess  you  will  do." 

There  followed  many  years  of  hard  work  and 
privations,  but  when  Booker  Washington  grad 
uated,  he  carried  away  the  trust  and  friendship 
of  every  one  at  Hampton,  white  and  black.  He 
had  in  his  heart  a  passion  for  truth,  for  knowl 
edge,  and  for  service.  His  power  was  won  by  do 
ing  every  least  thing  within  his  reach,  however 
hard  or  disagreeable,  as  perfectly  as  he  could  and 
as  cheerfully  as  if  it  were  the  deepest  desire  of 
his  heart. 

After  graduation,  Booker  taught  school,  deny 
ing  himself  severely  that  he  might  help  his 
brother  John  and  an  adopted  brother  also 
through  Hampton.  He  was  then  called  back  to 
the  Institute  and  given  charge  of  the  dormitory 
for  Indian  boys.  His  power  to  understand,  con 
trol,  and  inspire  these  boys  of  a  race  so  widely 


22          In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

different  from  his  own  showed  once  more  his> 
unusual  quality. 

Then  came  the  call  to  his  life-work.  Some 
white  citizens  of  Tuskegee,  Alabama,  wrote  to 
General  Armstrong,  Hampton's  founder,  asking 
him  to  send  them  a  teacher  to  take  charge  of  a 
school  to  be  opened  there  for  Negroes.  General 
Armstrong  sent  Booker  Washington.  It  was  the 
American  Missionary  Association  that,  backing 
General  Armstrong,  made  Hampton  possible, 
and  it  was  Hampton  that  had  made  possible 
Booker  Washington  as  America  and  the  world 
came  to  know  him  and  through  him,  Tuskegee. 
Thus  Hampton  and  Tuskegee,  two  of  the  great 
est  forces  in  the  world  for  Negro  betterment, 
both  owe  their  existence  to  the  Christian  Church. 

Arrived  at  Tuskegee,  Mr.  Washington  found 
no  school  building  and  only  a  small  sum  to  pro 
vide  one,  pay  the  teacher's  salary,  and  meet 
other  expenses.  A  dilapidated  church  and  a 
near-by  shanty  were  secured,  neither  of  them 
weather-proof.  When  it  rained,  the  teacher  had 
to  stand  under  'an  umbrella.  But  here,  with 
thirty  pupils  and  one  teacher,  there  began  on 
July  4th,  1881,  a  school  which  has  become  one  of 
the  famous  institutions  of  the  world. 

Soon  after,  an  abandoned  plantation,  the  "big 
house"  of  which  had  burned  down,  was  offered 
for  sale  for  five  hundred  dollars.  To  the  man 
.who  afterward  raised  millions,  this  seemed  an 


A  Story  of  Service  23 

almost  staggering  sum,  but  he  was  able  to  borrow 
the  money,  penniless  as  he  was — a  fact  which 
shows  not  only  his  own  courage,  but  the  kind  of 
faith  he  inspired  in  white  people.  The  four  old 
buildings  on  the  farm — a  cabin,  a  kitchen,  a  stable, 
and  a  hen-house — were  cleaned  and  repaired  after 
school  hours,  teacher  and  students  working  to 
gether.  Soon  these  new  class-rooms  were  ready 
for  use,  and  Mr.  Washington  sent  to  Hampton  for 
an  assistant  teacher.  Together  they  got  up  sup 
pers  and  festivals  to  pay  for  the  new  place.  White 
and  colored  people  helped  raise  the  money,  though 
both  races  were  poor.  Often  the  Negroes  could 
give  only  a  nickel  or  a  dime.  One  old  colored 
woman,  too  poor  even  for  this,  brought  six  eggs 
"to  put  into  de  eddication  ob  dese  boys  an'  girls.'7 
Most  Negroes  at  this  time  thought  of  an  educa 
tion  as  some  magic  good  that  would  help  them  to 
live  without  working.  But  Mr.  Washington  had 
learned  at  Hampton  that  every  one  who  earns  the 
right  to  live  must  work  in  some  way,  and  that  the 
great  majority  of  people  of  every  race  must  work 
with  their  hands.  He  wanted  to  teach  his  people 
to  honor  work  and  to  put  brains  and  character 
into  it.  He  believed  in  everybody,  white  and 
black,  having  all  the  education  possible;  but  he 
knew  that  the  first  thing  for  his  people,  poor  and 
ignorant  as  they  were,  was  to  learn  to  work  in 
telligently  and  happily  at  whatever  they  could  get 
to  do,  such  as  farming  and  the  simpler  industries. 


24  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

He  knew  they  could  learn  a  kind  of  farming  that 
would  bring  them  money  enough  to  build  com 
fortable  homes  instead  of  such  cabins  as  the  one 
in  which  he  had  been  born.  He  wanted  them  to 
learn  how  to  be  clean  and  healthy,  to  have  plenty 
of  fruit,  vegetables,  chickens,  eggs,  and  milk  for 
their  children,  instead  of  their  everlasting  diet  of 
fat  pork  and  cornbread.  He  undertook  to  revolu 
tionize  the  habits  of  a  people,  their  thoughts,  and 
their  standards.  And  he  did  it.  And  in  so  doing, 
he,  more  than  any  other  one  man,  taught  the  world 
the  kind  of  education  that  the  masses  of  every 
race  need.  All  over  the  world  "the  Hampton 
idea"  is  being  adopted  by  governments,  mission 
boards,  and  experts  in  education  for  those  masses 
of  people  whose  development  has  been  retarded. 
It  is  the  Hampton  idea — General  Armstrong's 
idea — which  he  worked  out  at  Hampton;  but 
Booker  Washington,  even  more  than  its  great 
originator,  made  it  famous. 

At  first  the  Negroes  did  not  like  this  idea  of 
work.  They  came  to  school  in  order  that  they 
might  not  have  to  work.  When  the  land  of  the 
new  farm  was  to  be  cleared  'and  planted,  the  stu 
dents  balked.  But  when  their  teacher  took  an  ax 
and  went  to  the  woods,  inviting  them  to  come  with 
him,  they  went.  If  he  would  chop  trees  and  plow 
and  hoe,  they  were  willing  to  do  it  also.  They 
were  very  proud  of  a  teacher  who  was  a  real  grad- 


A  Story  of  Service  25 

uate,  and  if  he  was  willing  to  work  like  that,  pos 
sibly  it  was  not  so  bad,  after  all. 

The  white  people,  watching,  were  well  pleased, 
more  and  more  so  as  they  saw  the  Negro  hovels 
changing  into  thrifty  homes,  and  intelligent  farm 
ing  bringing  larger  crops  for  themselves  as  well 
as  for  the  Negroes.  The  white  stores  began  to 
prosper,  also.  The  Negroes  were  putting  money 
in  the  bank  and  buying  land.  But  they  were  buy 
ing  building  material,  too,  and  better  clothes  and 
comforts  and  conveniences  such  as  they  had  never 
had.  They  did  better  work  for  the  white  people 
and  were  to  be  trusted  more.  The  white  people 
saw  that  Negro  prosperity  was  good  for  every 
body,  and  they  began  to  believe  in  that  kind  of 
education  for  all  races.  They  saw  that  honest 
work  means  the  building  of  character,  and  that 
intelligent  work  means  mental  growth  and  inde 
pendence  and  happy  homes.  These  things  are 
good  for  everybody.  The  Negro  needs  them  not 
because  he  is  a  Negro,  but  because  he  is  a  human 
being. 

The  whole  wonderful  story  of  Tuskegee  cannot 
be  told  here.  It  can  be  found  in  a  book  which 
should  be  read  by  every  American,  black  and 
white;  a  book  to  interest  young  people  and  old 
people  and  to  make  even  a  coward  brave — Up 
from  Slavery  by  Booker  T.  Washington.  The 
North  Carolina  State  Board  of  Education  has  in- 


26  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

c'mded  it  in  its  list  of  books  for  high  school  li 
braries  of  both  races.  It  will  broaden  the  mind 
and  cheer  the  heart  of  any  who  will  read  it. 

Mr.  Washington  began  to  speak  in  public  to  his 
own  people  first,  then  to  white  people  of  the  North, 
where  he  went  to  raise  money,  then  to  Southern 
white  people.  If  the  test  of  oratory  is  the  speak 
er's  power  to  make  people  who  do  not  sympathize 
with  him  or  believe  as  he  does  feel  sympathy,  >see 
as  he  sees,  accept  his  doctrine,  and  believe  in  himr 
then  Booker  Washington  was  one  of  the  greatest 
orators  America  has  produced.  In  New  Orleans 
he  spoke  before  a  great  audience  of  Southern 
white  people  most  of  whom,  in  those  early  days 
before  Mr.  Washington  was  known,  were  hostile 
to  any  Negro  set  forward  as  a  leader.  In  five 
minutes  he  had  gripped  their  interest,  and  soon 
he  held  them  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  They 
laughed  and  cried  as  he  moved  them — men  and 
women,  thousands  of  them ;  they  rocked  the  walls 
with  their  applause ;  they  flocked  about  him  after 
ward,  eager  to  grasp  his  hand.  Over  and  over  he 
aroused  the  same  enthusiasm.  Presidents,  gov 
ernors,  bishops,  heads  of  great  universities  pub 
licly  honored  him.  At  Charleston,  five  miles  from 
the  old  salt  mines,  the  governor  of  West  Virginia 
and  his  staff  gave  him  a  public  reception  to  which 
footh  races  flocked.  In  Atlanta  he  swept  the 
crowds  off  their  feet,  including  the  governor  of 
Georgia  who  >sat  beside  him  on  the  stage.  It  was 


A  Story  of  Service  27 

;  the  same  way  in  staid  Boston  and  in  England, 
where  the  greatest  came  to  hear  him.  But  it  was 
not  just  emotion  that  he  stirred.  He  made  people 
see  and  love  the  real  things,  the  big,  simple, 
Christ-like  things  that  never  change.  He  made 
right  look  wise  and  beautiful,  as  it  is,  and  he 
showed  two  different  races  the  way  to  live  side 
by  side  in  justice  and  friendship,  "in  things  purely 
social  as  separate  as  the  fingers,  yet  one  as  the 
hand  in  all  things  essential  to  mutual  progress." 
Booker  Washington  did  the  work  of  a  dozen 
men.  He  stimulated  Negro  business  throughout 
the  country  by  his  organization  of  the  Negro  Busi 
ness  League  and  his  inspiration  and  direction  of 
it.  His  health  work  has  influenced  the  whole 
South  and  has  won  cooperation,  not  only  from 
local  white  organizations,  but  from  state  officers, 
boards  of  health,  federations  of  women's  clubs, 
chambers  of  commerce,  and  the  like.  He  never 
spared  himself,  and,  as  men  see  things,  he  died 
before  his  time.  Broken  down  in  body,  Mr.  Wash 
ington  was  taken  to  St.  Luke's  Hospital  in  New 
York.  When  he  found  the  end  was  near,  he  asked 
to  be  taken  home  to  die.  They  put  him  in  a  special 
car  with  doctors  and  nurses  and  his  devoted  wife. 
The  country  watched  that  journey,  and  the  great 
newspapers  told  everywhere  how  he  was  standing 
the  trip — this  man  born  a  slave  on  the  earthen 
floor  of  a  windowless  cabin.  He  reached  Tuskegee 
just  alive,  and  there,  in  his  own  beautiful  home, 


28  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

amid  hearts  that  loved  him  and  the  folk  he  had 
lifted  up,  Booker  Washington  passed  out  to  meet 
Ms  Master  and  to  get  his  praise  from  Grod. 

What  made  him  great?  He  had  a  strong,  broad 
mind,  but  not  a  preeminent  one.  Some  of  his  own 
race,  many  of  ours,  were  his  mental  equals  or  su 
periors,  yet  they  were  not  in  the  same  class  with 
him  at  all.  He  was  a  highly  gifted  administrator, 
a  remarkable  speaker,  but  so  are  many  lesser  per 
sons.  Where  was  the  secret  of  his  power?  I  puz 
zled  over  it  until  I  heard  him  talk  to  his  own 
people  one  day,  and  then  I  knew. 

Speaking  to  white  people,  he  appealed  to  their 
common  sense,  their  love  of  justice,  their  spirit  of 
sympathy  and  fair  play,  their  business  interests. 
To  his  own  people  that  day,  he  spoke  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  of  how  He  would  help  them  meet  diffi 
cult  conditions  in  the  right  way.  He  spoke  of 
injustices  the  Negro  often  suffers  and  of  the  dan 
ger  of  bitterness  and  hatred  against  a  people  be 
cause  of  the  wrongdoing  of  some.  "I  have  felt 
these  things, ' '  he  said.  ' i  I  suffered  much.  I  grew 
to  hate  white  men  as  some  of  you  do  to-day.  I 
hated  them  until  my  soul  began  to  dry  up.  My 
power  to  love  and  help  my  own  people  was  shrivel 
ing.  I  found  that  hate  in  my  heart  to  any  man 
would  kill  my  usefulness  to  all  men.  Then  I  car 
ried  my  hate  to  Jesus  Christ,  and  He  delivered 
me  from  it.  He  took  it  out  of  my  heart.  He  keeps 
me  free.  He  showed  me  how  to  love  white  men, 


A  Story  of  Service  29 

and  now  I  can  serve  them  and  my  own  people  to 
gether  and  alike. " 

Biding  down  Fifth  Avenue  in  New  York  some 
months  after  Dr.  Washington's  death,  a  crowd  of 
people  was  seen  blocking  the  sidewalk  out  to  the 
roadway,  yet  none  of  the  policemen  in  sight  made 
the  people  move  on.  Coming  nearer,  it  was  no 
ticed  that  those  who  left  the  crowd  and  came  up 
the  avenue  had  a  different  look  on  their  faces — 
not  the  alert  Fifth  Avenue  look,  keen  for  new 
fashions  and  costly  trifles,  but  one  that  seemed  to 
go  beyond  the  great  buildings  and  splendid  shops. 
'  Coming  opposite  the  window  of  a  great  silver 
smith,  one  saw  that  the  crowd  was  gazing  at  a 
bronze  bust.  The  face  was  furrowed  and  tired 
and  black — the  face  of  this  same  Negro  and  one 
time  slave.  Yet  there  stood  before  it  rich  and 
poor,  glimpsing,  no  doubt,  something  of  the  beauty 
of  a  life  of  unselfish  service  and  its  splendid  eter 
nal  unshakableness ;  and  one  Southern  woman 
thanked  God  that  death  makes  so  plain  the  things 
really  worth  living  and  dying  for,  and  looked  at 
the  black  face  through  a  mist  of  tears. 


But  what  of  Tuskegee  when  the  heart  and  brain 
from  which  it  grew  were  gone?  The  spirit  of 
service  which  had  filled  its  founder's  life  was 
still  there,  a  flame  kindled  in  hundreds  of  hearts, 
and  God,  who  carries  on  His  work  even  when  He 


30  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

calls  His  workmen  home,  had  -a  man  ready  for  the 
task  now  grown  so  great. 

This  man,  too,  is  from  Virginia,  born  soon 
after  the  Civil  War.  One  unusual  thing  about  him 
is  that  he  knows  all  about  his  ancestors  for  gen 
erations  back.  Not  very  many  white  people,  and 
few  Negroes,  know  as  much  about  their  great- 
great-great-grandfather  as  does  this  black  man. 

When  this  grandfather  was  young,  in  1735,  his 
father,  an  African  chief,  fought  a  battle  in  which 
he  took  many  captives.  Some  of  them  he  sent  in 
chains  down  to  the  sea-coast,  to  be  sold  as  slaves. 
His  son  had  charge  of  the  convoy.  The  young 
man  sold  his  slaves  and  then  accepted  the  invita 
tion  of  the  traders  to  go  on  board  their  wonderful 
ship  and  inspect  it.  Afterwards  he  took  dinner 
with  them.  His  food  must  have  been  drugged,  for 
when  he  came  to  himself,  he  was  far  out  at  sea, 
chained  in  the  hold  with  the  very  slaves  he  had 
himself  so  recently  sold. 

This  young  man,  the  son  of  an  African  chief, 
was  brought  to  Eichmond,  Virginia,  and  sold.  He 
lived  to  a  very  great  age,  trusted  and  kindly 
treated  by  his  master.  He  told  the  story  of  his 
capture  to  his  great-granddaughter,  who,  in  turn, 
told  it  to  her  grandson,  Dr.  Kobert  Moton,  now 
president  of  Tuskegee  Institute. 

Dr.  Moton's  father's  mother  also  came  from 
Africa,  and  all  his  people  afterwards,  on  both 
sides,  were  slaves.  He  himself  was  born  free  and 


A  Story  of  Service  31 

{ 

grew  up  happily  on  the  plantation  where  his 
^father  was  foreman  and  his  mother  the  cook  for 
^'the  big  house." 

His  mother  had  learned  to  read,  and  she  taught 
|her  little  son  at  night  by  the  light  of  a  pineknot 
ifire.    When  at  length  the  white  folks  in  the  big 
(house  found  this  out,  one  of  the  young  ladies 
taught  Eobert  herself.    Afterwards,  he  went  to 
Sthe  country  school  when  it  was  open,  working  the 
;  rest  of  the  time,  first  as  house-boy  and  then  in  the 
fields.    For  years  he  attended  the  colored  Sunday- 
school,  which  was  taught  by  the  best  white  people 
jof  the  neighborhood,  among  whom  he  had  many 
|  friends. 

But  for  his  mother,  Eobert  Moton  might  have 
fmissed  the  great  opportunity  which  came  to  him 
fat  Booker  Washington's  death.  When  he  was  only 
1  eighteen,  he  was  superintendent  of  the  Baptist 
8  Sunday-school,  leader  of  the  church  choir,  and  a 
potable  speaker  at  religious  and  political  gather- 
fiings  of  his  people.  This  was  in  "reconstruction" 
[times,  and  some  white  and  colored  politicians 
Swanted  him  to  go  to  the  legislature.  It  was 
I  against  the  law  for  a  minor  to  fill  such  an  office, 
-but  he  was  six  feet  tall  and  could  pass  for  twenty- 
lone.  The  politicians  said  that  the  only  thing  nec- 
•essary  was  for  his  mother  to  swear  that  he  was  of 
age.  It  was  a  dazzling  offer  to  a  poor  colored 
boy,  and  he  was  finally  talked  into  a  half-hearted 
consent.  But  he  reckoned  without  his  mother. 


32  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Not  even  for  her  beloved  and  only  child  would  she 
swear  to  a  lie,  and  instead  of  going  to  the  legis 
lature,  Robert  went  to  Hampton — the  beginning, 
little  as  he  dreamed  it,  of  a  far  more  distinguished 
career. 

The  next  years  were  filled  with  hard  study  and 
harder  work  in  the  school  lumber  mill  and  at  all 
sorts  of  jobs  in  summer.  One  whole  year  he  took 
off,  teaching  a  country  school.  On  graduation, 
young  Moton  made  so  fine  a  record  that  he  was 
offered  the  position  of  assistant  to  the  comman 
dant,  the  white  officer  in  charge  of  the  students' 
discipline.  When  the  commandant  resigned, 
Major  Moton,  as  he  was  then  called,  took  his  place. 
There  were  many  Indians  in  the  school,  a 
sprinkling  of  Chinese,  Japanese,  African  Negroes, 
Armenians,  and  Hawaiians.  The  faculty  was 
made  up  of  Northern  and  Southern  white  people, 
with  Major  Moton  the  only  Negro  on  it.  To  main 
tain  both  discipline  and  good- will  among  those  stu 
dents  of  many  races  and  to  grow  in  the  confidence 
and  esteem  of  the  white  faculty  was  no  small  ac 
complishment.  But  for  twenty-seven  years  it  was 
done. 

North  and  South,  Major  Moton  made  friends  for 
the  school,  speaking  before  audiences  of  white  and 
of  black  people.  In  Virginia  he  drew  into  the 
Negro  Organization  Society  all  the  scattered  col 
ored  societies — educational,  economic,  secret,  and 
open — to  work  together  for  "better  schools,  bet- 


A  Story  of  Service  33 

ter  health,  better  homes,  better  farms."  They  be 
gan  with  clean-ups  and  health  work,  securing 
hearty  cooperation  from  the  state  and  from  local 
organizations  of  white  people.  They  bought  a 
farm  on  which  the  state  put  up  a  sanitarium  for 
Negro  consumptives.  Many  leading  men  and 
women  of  both  races  have  been  brought  into  con 
tact  with  one  another  through  the  work  of  the 
Society,  and  interracial  good-will  has  been  pro 
moted  to  a  noteworthy  extent. 

When  Dr.  Washington  died,  in  1915,  Major 
Moton  was  elected  president  of  Tuskegee  Insti 
tute.  He  was  perhaps  the  one  man  who  could  take 
the  position  without  being  dwarfed  by  his  great 
predecessor.  The  influence  of  the  school  goes  on 
as  before,  broadening  and  deepening  with  the 
years. 

During  the  war,  Dr.  Moton  was  frequently  called 
to  Washington  by  the  Government  for  consulta 
tion  about  matters  concerning  the  Negroes  within 
and  without  the  army.  Tuskegee  did  fine  work  in 
training  colored  officers  and  technical  experts,  and 
the  school's  great  service  flag  is  a  wonderful  rec 
ord  of  loyal  Americanism.  In  stimulating  produc 
tion  among  colored  workers,  in  the  thrift,  Liberty 
Loan,  and  Red  Cross  campaigns,  and  in  all  other 
war  work,  Dr.  Moton  was  a  force  felt,  not  only 
throughout  the  state  of  Alabama,  but  among  his 
people  throughout  the  country.  In  this  work  he 
was  brought  into  contact  as  never  before  with  the 


34:  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

leading  white  men  of  the  South,  whose  confidence 
and  respect  he  won.  He  is,  therefore,  a  great  force 
for  interracial  understanding  and  friendship. 
When  colored  men  were  added  to  the  Interracial 
Commission,  composed  of  leading  white  people 
from  every  Southern  state,  Dr.  Moton  was 
the  first  Negro  chosen  to  represent  his  race  in 
that  body. 

In  1918  President  Wilscn  and  the  Secretary  of 
War  sent  Dr.  Moton  to  France  to  look  into  and 
report  upon  conditions  affecting  the  Negro  sol 
diers  and  to  suggest  whatever  changes  he  thought 
would  add  to  their  usefulness  and  well-being. 
This  mission  called  for  tact  and  insight  of  a  high 
order  and  was  of  great  benefit  to  both  races,  clear 
ing  up  misunderstandings,  removing  friction,  and 
promoting  justice  and  good- will. 

His  work  still  broadens  out.  "Speaking  the 
truth  in  love"  to  both  races,  never  dodging  an 
issue,  but  meeting  men  of  both  races  in  the  spirit 
of  Christ,  Dr.  Moton  is  one  of  the  constructive 
forces  in  America  to-day. 


Ill 

A  DOCTOR  OF  MEDICINE 

TWENTY  years  or  so  before  the  Civil  War, 
a  Maryland  slave  ran  away  from  Ms  master 
and  went  to  Canada  by  the  "underground 
railway."  That  was  the  name  for  the  chain  of 
homes  and  stopping-places  where  Negroes  fleeing 
from  slavery  were  hidden  and  cared  for  by  those 
who  sympathized  with  them.  If  slaves  were  dis 
covered  before  they  got  out  of  the  United  States, 
the  law  required  sheriffs  and  policemen,  even  in 
the  free  states,  to  arrest  them  and  return  them 
to  their  masters;  but  if  they  once  got  across  the 
line  into  Canada,  they  could  not  be  brought  back. 
Quakers  and  others  who  thought,  even  then,  that 
slavery  was  wrong  arranged  stopping-places  from 
many  points  along  the  borders  of  the  slave  states 
and  all  the  way  up  to  Canada,  and  many  colored 
people  made  their  way  along  these  routes  to  free 
dom.  So  this  Maryland  slave,  named  Roman, 
when  once  he  had  found  friends,  was  passed  on 
from  hiding-place  to  hiding-place  until  at  last  he 
reached  Ontario,  in  Canada,  and  there  he  lived 
and  worked  for  over  twenty  years.  He  married 
the  daughter  of  a  Negro  farmer  who  had,  himself, 
run  away  from  Virginia  long  years  before. 

35 


36  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

When  Lincoln's  proclamation  freeing  the  slaves 
made  it  safe  to  return  to  the  United  States,  Eoman 
took  his  family  to  Williamsport,  Pennsylvania, 
and  there,  on  the  4th  of  July,  1864,  his  son  Charles 
was  born. 

There  was  a  large  family,  and  they  knew  what 
it  was  to  be  poor  and  without  many  of  the  com 
forts  of  life.  Sometimes,  however,  people  who  do 
without  comfort  get  something  bigger  and  better 
in  its  place;  they  learn  to  be  brave  and  cheerful 
no  matter  what  their  surroundings  are.  This  little 
colored  boy  was  one  of  these  fortunate  people. 
The  hard  lessons  he  mastered  helped  him  during 
the  struggle  of  his  early  years.  Now  that  he  has 
won  comfort  and  independence  for  himself  and 
his  family,  these  lessons  still  help  him  by  giving 
him  a  quick  sympathy  for  those  who  struggle. 
Much  of  his  happiness  comes  from  giving  to  others 
the  help  he  himself  used  to  need  so  much. 

Charles  was  a  chap  who  liked  to  discover  things 
for  himself.    A  little  brook  ran  near  his  home,  and 
he  wanted  to  find  out  where  it  came  from.    He 
was  a  tiny  child,  only  three  or  four  years  old,  but 
he  set  out  to  find  the  beginning  of  that  brook,  i 
He  walked  a  great  distance,  resting  by  the  way,  j 
no  doubt,  but  he  was  gone  so  long  that  his  mother 
roused  the  neighborhood  to  help  her  find  him.  ; 
They  searched  the  fields  and  the  woods,  and  at  last 
they  found  the  boy  at  the  place  where  the  brook 
began — a  little  pool  with  a  bubbling  spring  at  the 


A  Doctor  of  Medicine  37 

bottom  of  it.  He  was  watching  it  as  hard  as  he 
could,  more  puzzled  than  ever  as  to  where  the 
water  came  from  and  still  determined  to  find  out. 
But  his  mother  carried  him  off  home,  and  if  he 
had  intended  trying  to  get  down  the  hole  at  the 
bottom  of  the  pool,  his  plans  were  nipped  in  the 
bud. 

When  he  was  six  years  old,  Charles's  father,  a 
broom-maker  by  trade,  went  back  to  Canada,  and 
until  he  was  twelve,  the  boy  spent  much  of  his  time 
on  his  grandfather's  farm.  He  had  all  sorts  of 
adventures  here,  trying  to  ride  the  steers  like  the 
big  boys  and  being  tossed  over  the  fence,  walking 
a  mile  to  the  pasture  gate  to  open  it  for  his  grand 
father,  that  he  might  ride  back  with  him  as  a 
reward,  climbing  the  fruit  trees  to  eat  all  one  boy 
could  possibly  hold,  trotting  after  the  sheep,  and 
often  getting  into  mischief  which  tried  his  grand 
mother's  patience  more  than  he  found  comfort 
able.  His  grandfather  was  his  refuge  at  such 
times  and  usually  arranged  a  peace  for  him.  The 
old  man  liked  the  boy's  fearlessness,  his  honesty, 
his  eagerness  to  find  out  things,  his  readiness  to 
take  a  hand  in  whatever  came  along.  Like  most 
men,  he  did  not  take  the  messes  the  child  made  or 
his  mischief  as  seriously  as  his  wife,  who  had  to 
set  things  in  order. 

But  play-days  were  soon  over.  When  Charles 
was  twelve  years  old,  his  parents  moved  to  Dun- 
das,  and  the  boy  went  to  work  in  a  cotton  mill. 


38  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

The  machinery  started  at  six  o  'clock,  and  any  one 
who  was  not  at  the  mill  ten  minutes  beforehand 
had  to  go  to  the  office  for  discipline.  This  was 
such  an  unpleasant  experience  that  most  of  the 
boys  arrived  far  ahead  of  time.  Charlie  Eoman 
put  himself  on  the  safe  side  by  being  on  hand 
every  morning  at  half -past  five. 

With  work  lasting  for  ten  and  a  half  hours, 
there  was  little  time  left  for  other  things.  But 
the  boy's  heart  was  so  set  on  having  an  educa 
tion, — there  were  so  many  things  he  wanted  to 
find  out, — that  he  spent  two  hours  every  evening 
at  night-school,  studying  afterwards  at  home  until 
far  into  the  night.  He  read  every  book  he  could 
lay  his  hands  on,  borrowing  them  wherever  he 
could.  On  Sundays  he  went  regularly  to  Sunday- 
school  and  studied  his  Bible  as  far  as  his  oppor 
tunities  made  possible.  Charlie  belonged  to  a  lit 
tle  band  of  teetotalers,  who  were  much  less  num 
erous  then  in  Canada,  or  anywhere  else,  than  they 
afterward  became.  And  behind  everything  he  did, 
this  boy  had  one  settled  purpose  in  life. 

One  day  at  the  noon  hour  the  boys  at  the  mill 
were  telling  each  other  what  they  meant  to  be 
when  they  grew  up.  Charles,  the  one  colored  boy 
in  the  group,  and  a  white  boy  named  Arthur  were 
the  only  two  who  had  nothing  to  say.  The  col 
ored  boy,  kindly  treated  by  many  of  his  mill  asso 
ciates,  was  made  by  others  to  feel  very  sharply 
that  they  looked  down  upon  him,  not  because  of 


A  Doctor  of  Medicine  39 

what  he  was,  but  because  of  the  color  of  his  skin ; 
so  when  the  others  talked,  he  often  listened  and 
said  nothing.  Arthur  said  nothing  because  he  was 
a  shy  boy  with  different  thoughts  from  most  of 
the  others.  After  a  while,  one  of  the  bigger  boys 
turned  to  him  in  a  bullying,  sneering  way  and 
asked,  "Well,  Arthur,  what  are  you  going  to  be?" 

"I'm  going  to  be  a  musician, "  replied  the  boy, 
quietly. 

A  howl  of  derision  went  up  at  this.  They 
looked  at  him,  poorly  clad,  without  money  or 
friends,  tied  to  a  factory  ten  hours  a  day  for 
barely  enough  to  keep  him  alive,  and  they 
laughed  until  they  nearly  lost  their  breath. 

When  the  delightful  edge  of  the  joke  was  dulled 
a  little,  the  big  boy,  in  an  effort  to  repeat  his  suc 
cess  with  Arthur,  turned  to  the  silent  colored  boy, 
sneering  more  than  ever.  "And  what  are  you  go 
ing  to  be,  if  you  please?"  he  inquired. 

"A  doctor  of  medicine,"  came  the  answer,  quick 
as  a  flash. 

How  they  roared  at  that  I  They  laughed  until 
they  almost  cried,  and  went  back  to  work  at  last 
still  chuckling  and  thinking  the  big  boy  who  had 
asked  the  questions  a  very  master  of  humor. 

But  both  those  boys  told  the  truth.  The  white 
boy  has  gone  home  already,  carrying  back  to  God 
the  gift  which  had  been  given  him  and  which  he 
did  his  best  to  develop  and  use.  When  he  died, 
he  was  the  leader  of  an  orchestra.  And  the  col- 


40  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

ored  boy — but  you  shall  hear  what  the  colored  boy 
did. 

He  worked  in  the  mill  for  five  years— until  he 
was  seventeen  years  old.  All  this  time  he  studied 
and  read  at  night,  and  all  this  time  his  thirst  for 
knowledge  grew.  Then  came  an  accident  at  the 
mill  which  sent  him  to  the  hospital  badly  hurt. 
He  was  there  a  long  time.  One  operation  after 
another  was  performed,  and  for  months  the  boy 
fought  for  his  life  through  suffering  and  almost 
despair.  When  at  last  he  came  out  of  the  hospital, 
he  was  on  crutches,  lame  for  life.  To  such  a  big, 
strong,  active  young  fellow,  this  must  have  been  a 
great  trial.  It  was  well  that  he  had  developed  a 
strong  Christian  faith,  for  he  needed  all  the  com 
fort  it  could  give  him. 

But  often,  through  the  very  troubles  which  seem 
to  block  our  way,  God  opens  a  door  through  which 
we  pass  to  something  even  better  than  our  dreams. 
Now  that  Charles  was  hopelessly  disqualified  as  a 
mill  worker,  it  was  decided  that  he  must  have  a 
chance  at  the  brain  work  he  so  wanted.  On 
crutches,  therefore,  he  went  to  the  Collegiate  In 
stitute  in  Hamilton.  Here  he  worked  as  hard  as 
though  lameness  did  not  exist,  finishing  the  six 
years'  course  in  three.  Before  school  and  after, 
Charles  found  time  to  help  pay  his  way  through 
school.  He  sold  i  '  notions ' '  wherever  he  could  find 
a  buyer  and  did  all  the  odd  jobs  possible  to  one 
in  his  condition.  Despite  his  drawbacks,  the  young 


rA  Doctor  of  Medicine  41 

man  kept  such  brave  good  cheer  that  he  made 
friends  for  himself  everywhere  he  went,  among 
both  white  and  black  people.  Whatever  could  help 
him,  his  friends  put  in  his  way,  and  above  all,  the 
mother  whom  he  so  devotedly  loved  stood  by  him 
as  brave  and  cheerful  as  he  himself,  helping  him 
in  every  possible  manner.  His  teachers  were  es 
pecially  kind  to  him,  not  because  he  was  black,  but 
because  he  was  an  eager  student  and  learned  so 
quickly  and  even  brilliantly. 

"I  have  taught  hundreds  of  boys,"  said  one, 
years  afterward,  "but  among  them  all  this  boy 
had  the  brightest  mind  I  ever  touched." 

After  graduation  Charles  went  South,  feeling 
that  there  he  could  best  serve  his  people.  He 
taught  school  in  Kentucky,  then  in  Tennessee,  and 
at  length  in  Nashville,  the  capital. 

Meharry  College,  the  best  medical  school  for  Ne 
groes  in  the  South,  is  in  Nashville.  The  school 
has  been,  and  is,  a  blessing  to  both  races  all  over 
the  South,  for  with  Negroes  in  every  white  home 
and  business  house,  sickness  for  either  race  means 
sickness  for  both.  Meharry  raised  health-stand 
ards  for  Negroes  first  in  Nashville,  then  in  every 
state  to  which  its  graduates  have  gone.  Young 
Eoman  was  anxious  to  enter  the  college  at  once, 
but  could  not  for  lack  of  money.  However,  while 
teaching  in  the  public  schools,  he  began  to  study 
the  books  in  the  medical  course.  As  soon  as  he 
had  saved  enough  money,  he  entered  Meharry  as 


42  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

a  regular  student.  He  worked  during  vacations  in 
a  colored  physician 's  office  and  finished  his  course 
with  honor. 

After  practising  briefly  in  Tennessee,  Dr. 
Eoman  went  to  Dallas,  Texas,  where  he  built  up 
a  successful  practice.  He  was  still  a  student  by 
nature,  and  from  time  to  time  took  post-graduate 
courses  in  Chicago  and  Philadelphia.  Then  he 
went  to  London  and  Paris,  specializing  in  diseases 
of  the  eye,  ear,  nose,  and  throat.  On  his  return 
from  Europe,  he  was  offered  a  professorship  at 
Meharry  along  the  lines  of  his  special  prepara 
tion.  He  has  been  there  ever  since,  except  during 
the  World  War  when  the  Government  appointed 
him  special  lecturer  to  the  colored  troops,  on  so 
cial  hygiene.  He  traveled  all  over  the  country  in 
the  war-years,  reaching  many  thousands  of  young 
men  of  his  own  race  with  sound  teaching  and  pow 
erful  appeal  founded  both  on  his  knowledge  of 
medicine  and  his  living  faith  in  Jesus  Christ. 

While  teaching  at  Meharry  and  attending  to  his 
large  and  growing  practice  in  the  city,  he  still 
found  time  to  study,  not  alone  to  keep  up  in  his 
profession,  but  to  broaden  his  life  in  other  fields. 
He  had  been  offered  the  degree  of  M.A.  from  sev 
eral  colored  colleges  of  excellent  standing  as  an 
honorable  recognition  both  of  his  scholarship  and 
of  his  services  as  a  citizen,  but  he  would  have 
nothing  he  had  not  earned.  Professor  though  he 
was,  he  studied  at  Fisk  University,  winning  his 


A  Doctor  of  Medicine  43 

M.A.  in  1913.  He  was  nearly  fifty  years  old  at 
this  time,  but  he  never  expects  to  be  too  old  to 
learn.  He  is  now  director  of  physiology  and  hy 
giene  at  Fisk  as  well  as  a  professor  at  Meharry. 

Dr.  Eoman  is  an  active  worker  in  the  A.  M.  E. 
Church,  of  which  he  is  a  member.  Into  his  Bible 
class  of  two  hundred  young  men  and  women,  he 
puts  his  whole  heart.  Sunday  after  Sunday  and 
year  after  year  as  the  students  crowd  his  class, 
the  hold  he  has  upon  them  is  evident. 

It  is  the  same  with  his  medical  classes.  Because 
of  a  real  love  for  teaching  and  for  his  students,  he 
quickens  both  their  minds  and  their  hearts.  They 
love  him  and  trust  him,  and  he  has  helped  so  many 
in  difficulty  and  trouble,  both  outward  and  inward, 
that  he  cannot  remember  the  half  of  it  himself. 
He  has  never  forgotten  his  own  struggles  with 
poverty,  with  misunderstanding,  with  pain,  and 
with  discouragement,  and  he  knows  how  to  help 
and  comfort  others  who  are  themselves  strug 
gling  in  like  manner. 

For  years  Dr.  Eoman  has  been  known  to  South 
ern  white  people  as  a  man  of  unusual  character 
and  gifts.  He  has  stood  for  full  justice  to  his  own 
people,  but  he  has  always  taught  and  lived  his  be 
lief  that  full  respect  is  possible  between  the  races 
without  intermingling  and  without  antagonism. 
This  was  the  burden  of  his  message  to  the  white 
people  at  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Southern 
Sociological  Congress  in  Atlanta  a  few  years  ago. 


44:  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

This  address,  published  afterward  in  "The  Hu 
man  Way,"  a  pamphlet  issued  by  the  Congress, 
is,  like  all  of  Dr.  Boman's  addresses,  full  of  epi 
grammatic  thought.  For  example : 

"Misunderstanding,  rather  than  meanness, 
makes  men  unjust  to  each  other." 

"Ignorance  and  prejudice  feed  upon  each 
other." 

"As  a  man  thinks,  not  as  he  looks,  finally  fixes 
Ms  status." 

"Thoughts,  not  bites,  win  the  battles  of  life." 

"Man's  attitude  toward  new  or  unpleasant 
truth  is  the  greatest  tragedy  of  human  life." 

"No  man  is  secure  in  his  rights  so  long  as  any 
man  is  deprived  of  his." 

"Let  us  accept  it  as  a  fact,  that  the  Negro  and 
the  white  man  must  survive  or  perish  together  in 
the  South,  and  that  there  can  be  no  mutual  fair 
play  without  mutual  respect." 

To  bring  this  respect  about,  Dr.  Eoman  pleaded 
for  fairer  dealing  in  the  newspapers.  They  re 
port  crimes  committed  by  Negroes  as  if  they  were 
especially  Negro  crimes,  not  as  a  crime  committed 
by  a  criminal,  as  white  crimes  are  reported.  No 
one  thinks  of  blaming  a  whole  race  for  one  bad 
white  man's  deeds,  but  a  Negro's  crime  is  re 
ported  as  something  different — something  any 
member  of  that  race  might  be  expected  to  do. 

He  asked  three  other  things  which  would  do 
much  in  promoting  fair  play  and  mutual  respect : 


A  Doctor  of  Medicine  45 

The  first  was  to  clear  white  speech  of  such  con 
temptuous  terms  as  "nigger,"  "coon,"  and  the 
like.  Courtesy,  one  might  say,  never  belittles 
either  its  user  or  its  recipient.  The  second  was 
never  to  report  the  speeches  of  race  agitators  who 
try,  especially  on  certain  political  levels,  to  stir 
prejudice  for  personal  gain.  The  third  was  to 
publish  the  creditable  things  the  Negroes  do  and 
to  try  to  learn  more  about  those  members  of  the 
race  whose  lives  and  achievements  are  worthy  of 
respect. 

These  are  sensible  suggestions.  Hundreds  of 
Southern  white  people  are  now  at  work  trying  to 
get  them  and  others  like  them  adopted  through 
out  the  South.  In  every  Southern  state  and  in 
over  eight  hundred  counties  in  the  South  there 
have  been  formed  in  the  last  three  or  four  years 
interracial  committees  composed  of  leading  white 
iand  leading  colored  men  and  women.  Sometimes 
they  all  belong  to  the  same  committee,  sometimes 
there  is  a  white  committee  and  a  colored  one.  In 
the  latter  case,  the  two  committees  meet  frequently 
together.  All  over  the  South  the  best  members  of 
both  races  are  coming  to  -know  one  another.  Dr. 
Roman  is  an  influential  member  of  the  Tennessee 
state  committee,  and  the  white  men  who  serve  with 
him  believe  in  him.  One  of  these  men,  Dr.  Kirk- 
land,  the  chancellor  of  Vanderbilt  University,  said 
of  him  that  he  had  the  respect  and  esteem  of  the 
thoughtful  men  of  both  races,  and  that  his  life 


£6          In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

and  work  had  done  much  for  the  uplift  of  his  race. 

Dr.  Roman's  own  people  have  honored  him  in 
many  ways.  Layman  though  he  is,  his  Church 
sent  him  as  fraternal  messenger  to  the  Canadian 
Methodist  Church  and  also  as  a  delegate  to  the 
Ecumenical  Methodist  Conference  which  met  in 
Toronto  in  1911.  His  fraternal  address  was 
widely  commented  on  in  the  Canadian  papers  as 
of  remarkable  eloquence  without  regard  to  the 
speaker's  race.  He  has  served  as  president  of 
the  National  Negro  Medical  Association  and  has 
done  much  to  raise  the  standards  of  health  and 
sanitation  among  his  people.  Dr.  Eoman  is  much 
sought  after  as  a  speaker  at  Negro  colleges.  North 
and  South.  His  addresses  make,  not  only  for 
better  living  and  higher  standards  within  his  own 
race,  but  also  for  helpful  relations  of  the  two 
races  one  with  another.  He  has  written  much 
for  the  best  class  of  Negro  publications.  A  book 
written  by  him  on  American  civilization  and  the 
Negro  has  won  high  praise. 

Dr.  Eoman  does  not  propose  to  grow  old  if  he 
lives  to  be  a  hundred.  He  thinks  hard  work,  hard 
study,  and  helping  others,  if  wisely  mixed  and 
regularly  taken,  is  a  better  elixir  of  youth  than 
Ponce  de  Leon's  fabled  fountain.  He  is  still  in 
full  vigor,  still  studying,  still  growing,  still  broad 
ening  his  service  to  his  fellow  man. 


SAVING  AN  IDEA 

SOME  people  seem  born  to  get  those  things 
done  which  nobody  else  would  even  attempt. 
Some  driving  force  within  sends  them  out 
on  a  new,  untried,  hard  way,  on  what  seems  to  all 
their  friends  to  be  a  wild-goose  chase.  To  them, 
however,  it  is  a  veritable  quest  of  the  Holy  Grail. 
They  go  from  one  difficulty  to  another,  with  no 
better  sense,  the  onlookers  think,  than  to  tackle 
the  impossible;  and  then,  all  at  once,  when  the 
wild  project  is  thought  to  be  dead  and  as  good  as 
buried,  the  thing,  in  some  amazing  way,  is  done 
r — a  success  beyond  dispute.  Then  people  begin  to 
praise  it  and  the  doer  of  it,  and  forget  that  they 
said  it  couldn't  be  done.  That  is  what  happened 
to  Nannie  Burroughs  and  her  big  idea.  She  says 
the  Lord  worked  it  out,  and  that  it  couldn't  pos 
sibly  have  been  done  without  prayer  and  faith. 

Nannie  was  born  in  Orange,  Virginia.  Her 
mother's  people  and  her  father's  belonged  to  that 
small  and  fortunate  class  of  ex-slaves  whose  en 
ergy  and  ability  enabled  them  to  start  towards 
prosperity  almost  as  soon  as  the  war  which  freed 
them  was  over.  When  she  was  still  a  very  little 
girl,  one  of  her  grandfathers  owned  a  good  farm, 

47 


48  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

and  the  other  made  a  comfortable  living  as  a 
skilled  carpenter.  Her  mother,  left  with  her 
little  girl  to  provide  for,  could  have  been  sup 
ported  by  either  of  these  men,  but  she  was  un 
willing  to  be  dependent  on  relatives ;  and  besides, 
she  wanted  her  child  to  have  a  better  education 
than  the  country  town  could  afford.  When  Nannie 
was  five  years  old,  her  mother  went  to  Washing 
ton.  Here  she  worked  and  kept  her  child  in  school 
until  Nannie  graduated  with  honor  from  high 
school. 

The  young  girl  took  a  thorough  business  course, 
and  special  work  in  domestic  science.  She 
wanted  to  teach  the  latter  branches,  and  as  she 
had  led  her  class  in  all  her  work,  she  was  given 
to  understand  that  if  she  would  take  this  special 
preparation,  she  would  be  made  assistant  teacher 
of  domestic  science  in  the  high  school.  The  posi 
tion  was  given,  however,  to  some  one  else,  who,  it 
was  rumored,  had  "pull"  with  the  authorities. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  it  broke  me  up,"  she  said. 
"I  had  my  life  all  planned  out — to  settle  down  in 
Washington  with  my  mother,  do  that  easy,  pleas 
ant  work,  draw  a  good  salary,  and  be  comfortable 
the  rest  of  my  life,  with  no  responsibilities  to 
weigh  me  down.  I  never  would  have  done  the 
thing  I  have  done ;  I  would  not  even  have  thought 
of  it. 

"But  somehow,  an  idea  was  struck  out  of  the 
suffering  of  that  disappointment — that  I  would 


Miss  NAXME  II.  BURROUGHS 


Saving  an  Idea  49 

some  day  have  a  school  here  in  Washington  that 
politics  had  nothing  to  do  with,  and  that  would 
give  all  sorts  of  girls  a  fair  chance  and  help  them 
overcome  whatever  handicaps  they  might  have. 
It  came  to  me  like  a  flash  of  light,  and  I  knew  I 
was  to  do  that  thing  when  the  time  came.  But  I 
couldn't  do  it  yet,  so  I  just  put  the  idea  away  in 
the  back  of  my  head  and  left  it  there. ' J 

She  went  to  Philadelphia  and  worked  in  an 
office  for  a  year.  Then  she  went  to  Louisville, 
Kentucky,  where,  at  the  headquarters  of  the  Na 
tional  Baptist  Convention  of  the  Colored  Church, 
she  became  bookkeeper  and  editorial  secretary. 
Like  her  mother,  she  had  been  a  devoted  church 
member  from  childhood,  and  she  put  her  energy, 
her  training,  and  her  great  gifts  into  the  service 
of  her  church. 

But  even  the  heavy  official  work  for  both  the 
men 's  and  the  women 's  conventions  could  not  con 
sume  the  energy  of  this  human  dynamo. 

Because  she  had  had  such  good  opportunities  at 
school  and  knew  so  much  about  right  ways  of  liv 
ing,  Miss  Burroughs  folt  a  responsibility  toward 
helping  those  who  had  had  no  chance  to  learn. 
She  was  teaching  in  Sunday-school  and  was  being 
asked  to  talk  at  all  kinds  of  church  meetings. 
"But  what's  the  sense  of  talk,"  she  said,  "if  you 
don't  do  something?  You  talk,  and  people  get 
stirred  up  and  think  they'd  like  to  do  something, 
and  that  makes  them  feel  good,  and  they  go  off 


50          In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Mace 

happy  and  satisfied,  feeling  as  though  they're 
some  account  in  the  world  because  they've  felt  like 
doing  something — and  they  haven't  done  one  thing 
to  help  one  soul  alive.  If  you're  going  to  be  a 
Christian,  you've  got  to  do  something  week-days 
as  well  as  talk  and  feel  about  it  Sundays." 

So  she  organized  a  Woman's  Industrial 
Club.  They  rented  a  house  and  served  cheap, 
wholesome  lunches  for  colored  working-folk. 
In  the  evenings  she  taught  domestic  science 
there.  She  started  a  class  in  millinery  and  a  class 
in  what  she  called, '  l  every-day  things  needed  in  the 
home."  This  included  sanitation,  hygiene,  suit 
able  dress,  care  of  children,  cooking,  sewing,  and 
laundry  work.  The  women  of  the  Industrial  Club, 
her  helpers  and  backers,  each  paid  ten  cents  a 
week  toward  the  work,  and  she  managed  the  rest 
of  it  herself.  She  carried  on  this  work  during 
the  nine  years  she  lived  in  Louisville. 

One  day  one  of  the  leading  white  women  of  the 
city  came  into  her  office  and  asked  if  she  was  run 
ning  the  cooking-school  at  the  colored  women's 
club.  When  Miss  Burroughs  said  yes,  the  woman 
asked  how  she  got  the  money  for  it. 

"Why,  we  club  women  pay  ten  cents  a  week, 
and  we  make  pies  and  cakes  and  sell  them." 

' i  Well,  "said  the  white  woman,  *  '  don 't  give  your 
lessons  for  nothing  any  longer.  People  value  more 
highly  that  which  they  pay  for.  If  they  can  afford 
only  a  penny,  let  them  pay  that.  I  will  pay  you 


Saving  an  Idea  51 

regularly  for  every  pupil  you  have,  so  that  you 
can  get  whatever  you  need  for  the  school. ' ' 

After  this,  the  club  grew  until  Miss  Burroughs 
was  forced  to  put  others  in  charge  of  the  classes, 
merely  supervising  the  work  herself. 

In  1900  she  went  to  the  annual  meeting  of 
the  Colored  Baptist  Convention  and  gave  a 
talk  which  seems  to  have  electrified  the 
assembly.  As  one  result,  she  was  made  secretary 
of  the  Woman's  Auxiliary,  a  small  and  feeble  mis 
sionary  organization  of  this  great  Church  which 
had  raised  the  year  before  just  $15  for  the  gen 
eral  mission  work  of  the  denomination.  She  has 
been  its  secretary  ever  since.  In  her  first  year  as 
secretary,  the  women  raised  over  $1,000.  In  1920 
they  raised  over  $50,000,  and  in  the  twenty  years 
of  her  leadership  they  have  put  $366,000  into  the 
missionary  treasury  of  their  Church. 

But  while  Miss  Burroughs  worked  with  enthusi 
asm  and  energy  for  her  denomination,  she  wanted 
to  enlist  her  churchwomen  in  something  which 
would  draw  together  and  help  all  the  women  of 
her  race. 

That  idea  of  a  school  for  girls  who  needed  help 
had  been  tucked  away  for  some  time  in  the  back 
of  her  head ;  now  she  took  it  out  and  considered  it. 

There  were  schools  for  colored  girls,  of  course ; 
but  they  were,  for  the  most  part,  founded  and  all 
were  largely  supported  by  white  people.  While 
Miss  Burroughs  knew  how  invaluable  this  help  to 


52  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

her  race  had  been,  and  is,  yet  she  felt  that  the 
Negroes  were  far  enough  along  now  to  begin  to 
do  more  for  themselves. 

The  year  after  she  became  secretary  of  the 
Woman's  Auxiliary,  she  tried  to  get  her  Baptist 
women  together  as  a  starting  point  for  this 
broader  work. 

"We  will  work  harder  than  ever  for  the  foreign 
fields  of  our  Church, "  she  said;  "but  let  us  start 
a  national  school  for  girls  here  at  home — not  a 
Baptist  school,  but  one  that  all  Negro  women,  of 
every  creed,  can  come  together  on.  We  don't  know 
what  we  can  do  until  we  all  get  together." 

But  the  women  would  not  listen.  They  would: 
have  none  of  Miss  Burroughs'  school.  They  were 
Baptists,  working  for  the  great  Baptist  Church. 
Again  she  put  her  idea  away  in  the  back  of  her 
head  for  safe-keeping  and  returned  to  her  work 
in  Louisville  and  to  the  building  up  of  her  Baptist 
organization  in  the  one  direction  it  was  as  yet 
willing  to  take — that  of  Baptist  good  works. 

Five  years  later  the  Auxiliary  was  raising 
$13,000  a  year.  The  women  had  just  put  up  a 
brick  building  for  some  of  their  mission  work  in 
Africa.  Miss  Burroughs  told  them  that  they 
needed  to  help  girls  here  in  America  as  well  as 
in  Africa,  and  that  if  they  had  the  school  she  pro 
posed,  they  could  bring  girls  here  from  Africa  and 
prepare  them  to  go  back  as  missionaries.  They 
liked  that  idea  and  proposed  to  rent  a  little  cot- 


Saving  an  Idea  53 

tage  somewhere  and  put  some  African  girls  in  it 
to  be  trained  as  Baptist  missionaries. 

"That's  not  my  idea,"  said  the  secretary.  "It 
must  be  national,  not  Baptist, — something  all  col 
ored  women  can  do  for  all  colored  girls." 

They  appointed  a  committee.  '  '  You  know, ' '  she 
said,  with  a  flash  of  the  laughter  that  is  always 
ready  to  bubble  up,  "when  we  women  just  must 
dodge  an  issue,  we  put  it  over  on  a  committee. 
But  when  the  committee  met  in  Louisville,  in  Jan 
uary,  1907,  they  endorsed  the  plan  I  suggested." 
When  Miss  Burroughs  had  her  vacation  that  sum 
mer,  she  went  to  Washington  to  look  for  a  site. 
With  a  horse  and  buggy  she  drove  all  over  that 
part  of  the  District,  and  found  a  hill  site. 

"Somehow  I  felt  the  school  had  to  be  set  on  a 
hill.  It  was  all  red  gullies  up  here  and  a  sight 
to  see,  with  a  dilapidated  eight-room  house  atop 
of  it  all ;  but  there  were  six  acres  of  land  and  this 
beautiful  view.  It  was  for  sale  for  $6,500,  $500 
to  be  paid  in  ten  days  and  $500  more  twenty  days 
later;  the  remainder  could  wait  at  interest.  I 
took  it." 

"Had  the  women  given  you  the  money?" 

"Why,  no,  not  a  cent." 

"Had  you  saved  all  that  yourself?" 

Again  that  look  of  flashing  laughter. 

"Why,  no;  I  hadn't  saved  any  money.  I'd  had 
too  many  things  to  do  with  my  money.  I  had 
saved  an  idea." 


54  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

4 '  I  see.   But  what  about  the  $500  ? " 

"I  went  to  Louisville  and  raised  it.  From 
my  own  people — yes.  You  see" — soberly — "I'd 
prayed  about  this  thing  for  a  long  time.  I  felt 
God  wanted  me  to  go  ahead,  and  I  knew  if  I  did 
what  I  could  and  trusted  Him,  He  would  see  it 
through.  And  He  did." 

She  stayed  on  in  Louisville  for  two  years  until 
the  whole  $6,500  was  raised  and  the  place 
paid  for.  Then  she  went  to  Washington  and 
opened  her  school  in  October,  1909,  with  eight 
pupils.  The  property  is  vested  in  a  self-perpetu 
ating  board  of  trust,  the  majority  of  the  members 
being  women.  If  the  board  is  ever  dissolved,  it 
goes  to  the  Baptist  Convention  and  the  Women's 
Auxiliary  jointly,  to  be  used  for  educational  pur 
poses. 

Both  races  bewailed  Miss  Burroughs'  leaving 
Louisville.  She  was  offered  a  site  for  her  school 
as  a  gift  if  she  would  stay,  but  she  felt  that  as  a 
national  institution,  it  should  be  in  the  nation's 
capital.  The  Louisville  Courier- Journal,  one  of 
the  most  distinguished  papers  of  the  South,  paid 
her  a  remarkable  tribute:  "Probably  no  woman's 
organization  in  Louisville  or,  for  that  matter,  else 
where  is  doing  as  much  practical,  far-reaching 
good"  as  the  organization  founded  by  "this  re 
markable  young  colored  woman,  Miss  Nannie  Bur 
roughs." 

Of  course  the  school  grew.    And  its  young  prin- 


Saving  an  Idea  55 

eipal,  still  secretary  of  the  Women's  Auxiliary  and 
having  to  raise  money  for  her  teachers'  salaries, 
must  provide  means  for  enlargement.  She  decided 
to  turn  an  old  stable  back  of  the  house  into  class 
rooms  and  a  dormitory. 

But  for  once  it  looked  as  though  she  must  fail. 
The  women  who  had  wanted  the  school  to  be  a 
Baptist  training-school  did  not  call  it  the  National 
Training  School,  as  Miss  Burroughs  did.  Most 
of  them  just  called  it,  "Nannie  Burroughs' 
school"  and  washed  their  hands  of  it.  But  one 
Baptist  woman  stood  by  her.  When  things  looked 
most  hopeless,  Mrs.  Maggie  L.  Walker,  the  woman 
banker  of  Eichmond,  gave  her  $500  on  condition 
that  she  would  not  tell  any  one  who  gave  it  to 
her.  That  started  the  fund,  and  soon  all  the 
money  needed  was  in  hand. 

"I  had  to  keep  my  promise,  of  course,"  said 
iMiss  Burroughs,  "and  not  say  a  word.  But  you 
see  what  I  did." 

My  eyes  followed  hers  to  a  substantial,  well- 
painted  building  which  bore  above  its  white  col 
umns  the  legend,  "Maggie  L.  Walker  Hall" — a 
monument  to  a  woman's  faith  in  a  woman  and  in 
her  idea  of  service. 

The  briers  and  weeds  were  gone  by  this  time; 
the  girls  were  cultivating  a  three-acre  garden  and 
canning  the  surplus  yield ;  they  had  filled  the  gul 
lies  themselves,  students  and  teachers;  they  had 
set  out  trees;  and  soft  green  slopes  covered  the 


56  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

once-bare  Mil.  Concrete  walks  came  next,  and 
then  Pioneer  Hall,  built  new  from  the  ground  up, 
three  stories  and  a  basement.  A  white  man  lent 
the  money  for  this  building,  but  colored  people 
paid  for  it.  During  the  war  two  additional  acres 
were  purchased,  with  a  dwelling  which  was  re 
modeled  for  sleeping-rooms,  industries,  and  a 
clubroom.  The  Northern  Baptist  white  women 
then  offered  $3,500  for  a  model  cottage  to  be  used 
in  the  domestic  science  work.  Negroes  added  $500 
for  the  building  and  furnished  the  cottage  taste 
fully.  The  senior  class  in  domestic  science  runs 
the  Home  on  a  practical  and  profitable  basis. 
Conventions  meeting  in  Washington  and  all  sorts 
of  local  organizations,  clubs,  and  groups  come  out 
for  luncheons  and  dinners.  The  girls  serve  them, 
and  the  money  goes  to  the  school. 

One  day  a  Washington  bank  called  up  Miss  Bur 
roughs  and  told  her  they  had  $1,000  for  her. 

"For  me?"  she  gasped.  " Where 'd  you  get  itf 
Are  you  sure  it's  for  me!" 

"It's  for  Nannie  H.  Burroughs  of  the  National 
Training  School.  Come  down  here  and  we'll  tell 
you  what  we  know  about  it." 

She  lost  no  time.  The  money,  she  learned, 
came  from  the  estate  of  a  white  Californian 
who  had  left  a  certain  sum  for  work  begun 
and  developed  by  Negroes  who  showed  initia 
tive  and  vision.  A  colored  man  had  told  the  execu 
tors  about  Miss  Burroughs'  school,  and  after  due 


Saving  an  Idea  57 

investigation  they  had  sent  her  $1,000  for  her 
work. 

"I  couldn't  put  a  big  gift  like  that  into  some 
thing  already  started,"  she  said.  " There's  al 
ways  a  place  for  money — our  water-works  cost  us 
$7,000  up  on  this  hill,  and  we  Ve  put  in  steam  heat 
and  electric  lights.  But  this  money  had  to  give 
us  something  we  never  would  have  had  without 
it.  I  got  $3,000  more  from  my  own  people  and 
we  built  the  community  house  down  there  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,  across  the  road.  Then  we  put  four 
thousand  books  into  it,  upstairs.  The  public 
schools  and  our  school  and  the  whole  community 
use  those  books." 

They  showed  use  when  we  went  to  look  at  them 
— use,  not  abuse.  They  are  undoubtedly  appre 
ciated.  They  are  in  a  big  room  used  for  commu 
nity  gatherings  and  entertainments.  Downstairs 
is  a  store.  Formerly  there  was  not  a  place  within 
a  mile  where  a  spool  of  thread  could  be  bought. 
Here  the  neighbors  can  get  notions,  staple  gro 
ceries  and  canned  goods,  and  almost  anything  that 
a  housekeeper  is  likely  to  need  in  a  hurry.  The 
girls  of  the  domestic  science  department  have  a 
cake  and  pie  department  that  is  very  popular. 

The  community  house  quickens  the  mental  and 
spiritual  life  of  the  whole  neighborhood,  ties  the 
school  and  the  community  together,  gives  the  girls 
training  both  in  business  and  in  service  to  the  com 
munity,  and  yields  the  school  an  annual  cash  in- 


58  In  ike  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

come  of  nine  per  cent  on  the  investment.  Doesn't 
a  thousand  dollars  have  to  be  energized  with  vi 
sion,  business  ability,  and  human  sympathy  before 
it  can  bring  in  returns  like  that! 

With  the  war  came  a  severe  testing  of  the  qual 
ity  of  the  work  the  school  was  doing  for  the  souls 
of  the  students.  The  bitter  cold  of  the  war-winter 
put  the  school  pump  quite  out  of  commission — this 
;was  before  the  $7,000  water-works  went  in.  All 
winter  long — and  how  long  that  winter  lasted! — 
teachers  and  girls  carried  in  buckets  every  drop 
of  water  used  on  the  place  from  the  neighborhood 
springs  and  wells  up  that  steep,  icy  hill  to  the  tank 
in  the  third  story  of  Pioneer  Hall:  water  for 
cooking,  bathing,  laundry,  dish-washing,  cleaning 
for  a  hundred  and  fifty  people.  "And  we  all  kept 
clean,  and  we  all  kept  sweet,"  said  Miss  Bur 
roughs,  who  did  her  full  share  of  water-carrying. 

They  carried  coal,  too, — all  of  them,  Miss  Bur 
roughs  included, — for  the  coal  companies,  hard 
pressed  for  labor,  refused  to  carry  coal  up  the 
difficult  hill.  They  would  dump  it  at  the  bottom, 
at  the  entrance  to  the  grounds,  or  they  would  not 
deliver  it  at  all. 

"I  just  explained  it  to  the  girls,"  said  the  prin 
cipal.  "I  showed  them  it  was  really  a  part  of 
our  service  to  our  country, — and  a  mighty  small 
part  compared  to  what  our  boys  were  doing  with 
out  a  word  of  complaint, — and  they  caught  the 
spirit  and  the  coal-scuttles  too.  We  all  did.  We 


Saving  an  Idea  59 

brought  every  piece  of  coal  the  school  used  that 
winter  all  the  way  up  this  hill.  Not  a  man  on  the 
place,  you  understand.  We  carried  coal  and 
water,  tended  to  our  pigs  and  chickens,  cooked, 
cleaned,  and  did  our  school  work  in  a  cheerful, 
happy  spirit.  You  know,"  she  went  on  thought 
fully,  "I  think  the  'hard'  years  were  the  best  ones 
we  had.  We  built  more  character.  Souls  grow 
under  pressure." 

So  do  ideas — the  kind  Miss  Burroughs  saved  in 
the  back  of  her  head  so  long.  That  special  idea 
took  a  fresh  start  once  the  water-works  were  in, 
and  assumed  the  shape  of  a  laundry.  The  girls 
had  done  their  personal  laundry  with  the  primi 
tive  equipment  of  wooden  tubs,  but  the  school  had 
been  paying  $500  a  year  for  laundering  its  house 
hold  linen,  and  its  principal  has  that  rarest  of 
business  gifts  which  can  turn  liabilities  into  as 
sets.  Since  sheets  must  be  laundered,  they  should 
bring  money  in  by  the  process  instead  of  taking 
it  out.  If  they  had  a  big,  modern  laundry,  the 
girls  who  desired  to  do  so  could  learn  the  work 
as  a  trade,  and  by  taking  in  outside  work,  those 
who  needed  to  earn  their  school  expenses  could 
do  so,  at  least  in  part,  and  the  school  could  earn  a 
profit  on  its  investment — all  instead  of  paying  out 
$500  a  year  to  somebody  else  for  washing  sheets. 
Miss  Burroughs  worked  it  all  out  after  due  in 
vestigation  and  so  convinced  her  board  of  trus 
tees  that  they  told  her  to  go  ahead.  If  she  could 


60  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

raise  $10,000,  the  remainder  could  remain  on  mort 
gage  for  a  while.  One  of  her  trustees  told  her 
if  she  would  get  $9,000  by  a  certain  date,  he 
.would  give  her  a  thousand  himself.  So  she  did 
an  amazing  thing. 

She  went  to  white  contractors,  told  them  she 
hadn't  a  cent  as  yet,  and  asked  them  to  begin 
on  the  building  at  once ;  and  they  did.  When  the 
building  was  almost  finished, — a  fine,  big,  modern 
plant, — she  was  asked,  "Have  you  got  the 
money !" 

*  *  I  haven 't  tried  yet, ' '  she  answered.  "  I  've  just 
been  preparing  for  my  campaign.  I'll  get  it,  be 
cause  God  will  give  it  to  me.  I  look  to  Him,  and 
He  never  fails  me.  It's  His  work.  I  began  it 
for  Him,  I  take  it  to  Him  day  by  day.  When  we 
need  anything,  I  look  to  Him  for  it,  then  I  think 
and  pray  and  work  over  my  part  of  it  the  very 
best  I  can,  and  what  we  need  is  given. ' ' 

A  $15,000  building  almost  finished  on  pure  faith 
— faith  of  white  contractors  in  a  Negro  woman, 
faith  of  the  woman  in  God !  The  school  has  been 
run  like  that  throughout  its  twelve  years  of  life. 
In  the  first  eleven  years  $232,000  in  cash  has  gone 
into  it.  Of  this,  the  Women's  Auxiliary  has  given 
$4,300,  the  white  Baptist  women,  $3,500,  a  white 
Oalifornian,  $1,000,  and  a  few  thousand  dollars 
have  come  from  the  students  in  board.  All  the 
remainder  has  been  raised  by  the  principal  from 
people  of  her  own  race,  and  secured  while  she  has 


Saving  an  Idea  61 

been  raising  the  income  of  the  Baptist  Women 's 
Auxiliary  from  $15  a  year  to  $50,000. 

Yet  the  test  of  a  school  is  not  the  money  put 
into  it,  but  the  character  that  comes  out  of  it. 
By  this  standard  the  National  Training  School  is 
an  asset  to  the  nation.  No  one  can  see  the  girls 
without  being  impressed  with  their  efficiency  and 
their  spirit  of  service.  It  is  hard  to  estimate  the 
loss  to  both  races  from  lack  of  room  at  the  school 
for  those  who  apply  for  admission. 

"But  I  believe,"  says  the  woman  who  has  built 
all  this  out  of  the  idea  she  saved  so  carefully, 
"that  some  day  God  will  move  some  white  per 
son  to  give  the  school  something  big — endowment 
and  equipment  to  do  the  best  work  it  is  capable 
of.  I've  felt  all  along  that  if  we  colored  people 
could  start  it  and  prove  that  it  is  worth  while 
and  would  do  our  very  best  for  it,  that  before  I 
am  clean  worn  out  and  can't  do  any  more,  He 
would  put  it  into  the  heart  of  some  one  of  His 
rich  white  children  to  do  what  we  can't — endow 
it  and  make  it  a  permanent  help  to  my  people  and 
my  country  after  I'm  dead  and  gone.  I  pray  for 
that,  and  I'm  trusting  for  it,  too.  But  I'm  not 
asking  anybody  but  God  for  it.  It  must  come 
from  Him." 

Miss  Burroughs  is  at  present  working  to  unite 
the  women  of  her  race  for  mutual  service.  She  is 
organizing  them  as  workers — including  artists, 
teachers,  business  and  professional  women,  do- 


62  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

mestics,  and  home  women  in  one  big  group,  with 
out  regard  to  class  distinctions.  She  wants  them 
to  stand  together  as  women  with  common  ideals 
of  work,  of  standards  of  living,  of  service,  and 
of  self-respect.  She  wants  the  most  favored 
women  of  her  race  to  stand  beside  the  poorest 
and,  in  doing  so,  to  give  the  latter  a  new  respect 
for  themselves  and  their  work,  new  hope,  and  new 
ambition,  that,  through  a  better  service,  they  may 
win  a  better  reward. 

Miss  Burroughs'  influence  over  her  people  can 
hardly  be  estimated.  She  has  dynamic  power. 
Measured,  not  as  a  Negro  woman,  but  as  a  woman, 
she  has  extraordinary  ability ;  and  her  living  faith 
in  God  and  in  all  His  children,  of  whatever  race, 
her  spirit  of  service  and  sacrifice  have  energized 
her  gifts  as  only  faith  and  love  can  do. 


y 

A  CITY  PASTOR 

THEEE  was  once  a  colored  boy  who  thought 
he  would  some  day  be  a  preacher,  but  as 
he  grew  older,  he  decided  that  being  a 
preacher  was  too  poor  an  occupation  for  a  young 
man  with  brains  and  an  education.  He  wanted 
to  make  money  and  of  course  that  cut  preaching 
out.  Yet  to-day  in  a  Massachusetts  city,  William 
DeBerry  is  the  pastor  of  one  of  the  largest  Con 
gregational  churches  for  colored  people  in  Amer 
ica.  Far  from  being  as  rich  as  he  once  hoped  to 
be,  he  is,  however,  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long, 
and  he  is  bringing  happiness  to  hundreds  of  others 
every  year. 

William  DeBerry  was  born  in  Nashville,  Ten 
nessee,  where  for  thirty  years  his  father  worked 
in  the  railroad  shops  on  week-days  and  preached 
to  his  people  on  Sundays.  The  boy's  idea  of 
preaching  came  from  his  father's  example  and 
also  from  his  mother,  who  taught  him  that  to  be  a 
preacher  was  to  have  the  noblest  of  opportunities. 

The  boy  had  a  well-developed  bump  of  per 
sistence.  This  characteristic  was  evident  even 
when  William  was  a  little  chap,  for  one  bitterly 
cold  day  he  nearly  turned  himself  into  an  icicle 

63 


64  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

finishing  up  something  that  was  almost  too  much 
for  him — almost,  but  not  quite.  On  this  day  he 
was  outdoors,  not  too  warmly  clad,  when  an  old 
Negro  came  by  leading  a  horse  and  asking  the  way 
to  the  mill,  which  was  on  the  edge  of  town.  The 
old  man  could  not  understand  the  child's  direc 
tions,  and  William,  not  having  been  out  long 
enough  to  realize  how  cold  it  was,  became  sud 
denly  fired  with  a  great  ambition.  He  offered  to 
go  with  the  man  to  the  mill  if  he  could  ride  the 
horse.  In  a  moment  he  was  lifted  to  the  horse's 
back,  and  rode  off  gloriously,  the  envy  of  all 
his  playmates.  But  it  was  two  or  three  miles 
to  the  mill.  The  weather  was  making  a  new  low 
record,  and  a  high  wind  cut  like  ice.  The  little 
boy  ached  with  cold  and  nearly  cried  with  it.  His 
hands  could  scarcely  hold  the  reins.  He  wished  he 
had  stayed  at  home.  He  longed  to  get  down  on 
his  poor  frozen  toes  and  dance  to  warm  them. 
But  he  had  said  he  would  ride  to  the  mill,  so  he 
tried  to  set  his  chattering  teeth  and  went  on. 
When  they  reached  the  mill,  the  boy  was  just  a 
little  frozen  lump,  too  stiff  to  stand,  at  first.  "But 
I  managed  to  limber  up  a  little  walking  home, 
he  said,  laughing.  "I  was  glad  I  hadn't  said  I'd 
ride  both  ways." 

A  few  years  after  this,  when  he  was  about 
ten  years  old,  the  city  was  repairing  its  streets 
with  macadam,  and  many  small  boys  of  both  races 
broke  the  stone  for  the  roadways.  They  called 


A  City  Pastor  65 

it  "  pecking "  stone.  The  boy  who  persisted  till 
he  "pecked  a  perch" — a  pile  of  rock  a  foot  high 
and  five  and  a  half  feet  each  way — was  awarded 
with  the  munificent  sum  of  fifty  cents.  So  William 
decided  to  peck  a  perch.  He  worked  after  school 
every  day  and  at  last  received  a  slip  of  paper  giv 
ing  an  order  on  the  paving  company  for  half  a 
dollar.  To  get  it  cashed,  the  boy  had  to  go  two 
or  three  miles,  from  away  out  in  North  Nashville 
nearly  to  the  river,  but  that  was  a  small  matter. 
He  trotted  off  gaily,  got  his  money,  and  turned 
back  home,  when  a  wonderful  thing  happened !  A 
man  asked  him  to  hold  his  horse  for  him.  When 
he  came  back,  he  gave  the  boy  a  whole  silver 
dime — just  for  holding  a  horse ! 

William  never  knew  quite  how  he  got  home ;  he 
thinks  maybe  he  flew.  But  in  any  case,  he  rushed 
in  to  his  mother,  almost  bursting  with  excitement, 
and  thrust  all  his  wealth  into  her  hands. 

I   earned  it  myself!"   he   shouted  joyfully. 

It's  to  buy  you  a  dress  with.  I  earned  it!  Go 
get  a  dress!" 

And  so  she  did.  All  the  way  to  town  she 
walked  and  bought  with  fifty  cents  calico  enough 
to  make  a  dress.  The  ten  cents  she  would  not 
take;  William  must  spend  that  for  himself.  But 
the  dress!  How  they  both  loved  and  admired 
it,  and  how  proudly  the  mother  wore  it,  with  her 
boy  who  had  given  it  to  her  walking  beside  her! 

William  attended  public  school  until  he  was 


a 
it 


66  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

about  fourteen,  when  his  father  thought  he  should 
go  to  work.  He  il hired  out"  in  the  country  that 
summer,  tending  to  the  horse,  doing  the  chores, 
helping  in  the  garden.  He  was  very  proud  of 
having  money  of  his  own,  and  he  meant  to  get  a 
place  in  one  of  the  hotels  in  the  fall.  He  had 
quite  sufficient  education,  he  thought,  to  preach 
when  he  was  old  enough. 

But  in  the  fall  a  friend  who  was  entering  the 
preparatory  school  at  Fisk  University  persuaded 
him  to  go  to  school  again.  His  mother  was  very 
much  pleased  that  her  boy  should  want  more  of 
an  education.  But  his  father,  who  lived  usefully 
with  very  little  book-learning,  was  doubtful  about 
so  much  schooling  doing  William  any  good.  How 
ever,  he  did  not  oppose  his  wife's  wishes,  and  the 
boy  entered  Fisk.  Once  started,  he  stuck  to  his 
work. 

The  same  quality  of  persistence  helped  the  boy 
to  win  in  the  preparatory  school  a  scholarship 
which  aided  him  year  after  year.  He  worked  hard 
during  vacation,  spending  two  summers  in  a  saw 
mill.  In  the  fall  he  did  odd  jobs  in  the  hotels. 
After  entering  college  at  Fisk,  he  taught  school 
in  the  summer  except  for  one  year  when  he  was 
a  porter  on  a  Pullman  car — a  year  that  tested 
him  as  no  year  had  done  yet. 

He  went  to  Cincinnati  for  this  job,  and  a  friend 
lent  him  his  carfare  and  ten  dollars  over.  He 


A  City  Pastor  67 

carried  letters  of  recommendation  from  Dr.  Cra- 
vath,  the  president  of  Fisk,  from  the  school 
superintendents  where  he  had  taught,  and  from 
several  white  people  for  whom  he  had  worked. 
But  in  Cincinnati  he  was  met  by  other  Nashville 
boys  who  told  him  no  more  porters  were  being 
engaged,  they  had  all  applied  in  vain.  Yet  he 
went  to  see  for  himself.  The  man  who  employed 
the  porters  was  out,  he  was  told,  not  to  return 
until  morning.  He  spent  the  afternoon  look 
ing  for  other  work,  but  without  success.  The  next 
morning  he  returned  to  the  Pullman  office. 

"There's  the  boss,"  said  the  office  boy.  "He 
won't  give  you  a  job,  but  there  he  is." 

The  "boss"  was  talking  with  friends,  among 
whom  was  a  lady.  Young  DeBerry  knew  that  if 
he  interrupted  the  man  to  ask  for  a  job,  he  would 
be  told,  as  his  friends  had  been,  that  there  were 
no  vacancies.  So  he  walked  up  to  the  great  man's 
desk,  without  a  word  laid  before  him  his  sheaf  of 
recommendations,  and  stepped  back,  waiting  in 
silence. 

The  "boss,"  not  knowing  what  the  papers  con 
tained,  read  them.  Then  he  turned.  "Are  you 
William  DeBerry?"  he  demanded. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"What  do  you  want?" 

"A  porter's  job  on  a  Pullman." 

"Can  you  fill  out  an  application  blank?" 


68  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  go  fill  out  this  one  and  bring  it  here 
to  me." 

He  could  scarcely  believe  his  good  fortune.  He 
filled  out  that  blank  with  the  greatest  care. 

"Did  you  write  this  yourself?"  inquired  the 
man. 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  I'll  take  you — if  you  can  buy  your  uni 
form.  You  must  pay  twenty-five  dollars  for  it, 
cash  down.  Can  you  get  it  f  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  came  the  instant  reply.  ("I  knew 
I  could  get  it  some  way,"  he  said  afterwards, 
"because  I  just  had  to,  and  I  had  ten  dollars 
toward  it  in  my  pocket.") 

"Very  well,"  said  the  boss.  "Here's  the  ad 
dress  of  the  tailor.  You  can  report  for  duty  to 
morrow.  ' ' 

The  tailor  was  an  old  Jew.  William  told  him 
his  story  and  showed  his  recommendations.  He 
offered  ten  dollars  cash  and  a  draft  for  fifteen 
dollars  on  his  first  month's  wages.  The  old  man 
shook  his  head. 

' '  I  never  give  credit, ' '  he  said.  Then  he  paused, 
read  over  the  letters  again,  and  looked  at  De- 
Berry  with  sharp  eyes.  "I  believe  you're  hon 
est,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  take  a  chance  on  you,  since 
you  want  an  education.  Here 's  the  suit. ' ' 

So  began  the  young  man's  best  summer  for 
money-making.  He  was  sent  first  to  help  an  old 


A  City  Pastor  69 

porter  who  taught  him  his  duties.  This  man,  of 
fering  him  a  cigarette  one  day,  was  astonished 
to  learn  that  DeBerry  neither  smoked  nor  drank. 

"Well,  you'll  do  both  pretty  soon,"  he  said. 
"If  you  aren't  smoking  and  taking  a  drink  in  two 
months,  I'll  give  you  a  new  uniform  myself."  He 
failed  to  do  this,  however,  even  though  two  months 
later  he  had  to  admit  that  his  prophecy  had  not 
come  true. 

When  DeBerry  finished  his  first  run  as  a  full- 
fledged  porter,  the  conductor  handed  him  a  roll  of 
bills,  saying  it  was  his  half  of  the  "cutting." 
He  knew  already  that  the  conductor  was  keep 
ing  back  some  of  the  company's  money,  be 
cause  he  had  not  given  him  the  checks  to  certain 
berths  for  which  passengers  had  paid  on  the  train 
rather  than  in  the  station.  The  conductor  was  re 
quired  to  give  the  porter  checks  for  all  berths  oc 
cupied,  and  these  checks,  turned  in  by  the  porter 
at  the  end  of  the  run,  must  tally  with  the  cash 
given  in  by  the  conductor.  But  if  porter  and  con 
ductor  agreed  to  steal — or  "cut,"  as  they  called 
it — the  money  of  those  passengers  who  paid  on 
the  train,  the  checks  were  destroyed,  and  there 
was  no  way  for  the  company  to  find  them  out. 
Many  conductors  kept  the  money  for  such  fares, 
dividing  it  with  the  porter  at  the  end  of  the  run. 
This  insured  the  porter's  silence  and  made  the 
conductor  safe. 

When  the  conductor  gave  him  the  money,  De- 


70  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Berry  was  frightened.  If  he  refused  it,  he  was 
sure  the  conductor  would  suspect  him  of  wanting 
to  better  himself  with  the  company  by  reporting 
the  conductor,  and  that  official  would  probably  pro 
tect  himself  against  this  imaginary  danger  by 
making  up  some  complaint  against  him  and  so 
have  him  dismissed.  He  couldn't  afford  to  lose 
his  job,  it  would  mean  dropping  out  of  college. 
Anyway,  it  was  the  conductor's  stealing,  not  his, 
he  tried  to  think.  So  he  took  the  money  for  that 
and  for  several  trips  afterward. 

But  the  young  man  kept  getting  more  and  more 
miserable.  His  mother  had  taught  him  from  his 
babyhood  that  he  must  be  honest  no  matter  what 
happened,  and  he  knew  he  wasn't  honest  now.  At 
last  he  felt  that  he  would  rather  lose  his  job  and 
drop  out  of  his  class  than  to  take  the  money  again. 
When  he  refused  it,  the  conductor  could  hardly 
believe  his  ears. 

"Why,  you're  a  fool,"  he  said.  "Everybody 
does  it.  Here,  take  it  as  a  present  from  me; 
you've  got  nothing  to  do  with  where  it  came 
from. ' ' 

When  he  still  refused,  the  conductor  was  angry, 
thinking  DeBerry  meant  to  report  him.  He  as 
sured  him  he  would  not,  but  the  conductor  did  not 
trust  him.  He  warned  all  the  other  conductors  not 
to  "cut"  when  they  had  DeBerry  along,  he  was 
queer  and  wouldn't  go  halves,  and  he  might  tell. 
So  nobody  offered  him  any  more  money.  Soon 


A  City  Pastor  71 

afterward,  William  was  assigned  to  an  old  con 
ductor  who  had  been  with  the  company  thirty 
years  and  had  never  "cut"  a  dollar.  He  stayed 
with  this  man,  who  turned  in  some  report  on  the 
young  porter  which  brought  him  an  unusual  trust. 
At  the  ends  of  the  run  the  conductor  changed  to 
another  car,  and  DeBerry,  in  sole  charge,  col 
lected  the  money  paid  for  these  short-distance 
rides,  sending  in  his  own  reports.  He  was  very 
happy  over  being  trusted — a  young  Negro,  only 
four  months  on  the  road. 

William  had  decided  by  this  time  that  preach 
ing  was  out  of  the  question  for  him ;  he  would  be 
a  doctor.  He  knew  a  good  many  preachers,  and 
few  of  them  were  educated  men.  Most  of  those 
he  met  were  ignorant  leaders  of  ignorant  folk. 
The  Church,  he  thought,  was  given  over  to  emo 
tionalism  and  superstition  or  to  blind  ignorance, 
which  was  almost  as  bad.  He  did  not  respect  the 
institution  as  he  had  when  he  himself  was  igno 
rant.  Besides,  ministers  never  made  any  money, 
and  money  he  meant  to  have — money  and  the  com 
forts  and  power  money  brings. 

While  he  was  in  his  senior  year  at  Fisk,  De- 
Berry  went  to  Dr.  Hubbard,  the  dean  of  Meharry 
Medical  College,  also  at  Nashville.  Dr.  Hubbard 
knew  the  young  man 's  record  as  a  student  and  was 
glad  to  have  him  enter  Meharry.  He  knew  noth 
ing  of  William's  old  determination  to  be  a 
preacher.  He  offered  him  a  position  as  tutor  in 


72  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Latin  at  the  college,  the  income  from  which  would 
help  him  through  his  course.  He  should  be  happy 
now,  William  thought,  with  most  of  his  struggles 
behind  him  and  the  way  to  a  profession  clear.  But 
instead,  he  was  very  unhappy.  The  inward  strug 
gle  was  acute. 

One  of  his  teachers  at  Fisk  sensed  his  difficulty. 
She  would  not  urge  him,  but  she  asked  him  what 
he  thought  was  the  need  of  his  people  for  edu 
cated  ministers  as  leaders.  He  found  it  a  hard 
question  to  put  out  of  his  mind.  Then  she  lent  him 
Drummond's  Natural  Law  in  the  Spiritual  World, 
and  the  book  left  him  with  a  new  sense  of  the 
world's  need  of  God's  love  and  of  ministers  to  in 
terpret  it.  Not  long  afterward,  Mr.  Moore,  field 
agent  of  the  American  Missionary  Association, 
came  to  Fisk  as  a  lecturer.  He  talked  at  chapel 
about  the  Negro  Church. 

"Some  of  you  young  people,"  he  said,  "think 
you've  outgrown  the  Church,  you  think  you're  too 
educated  for  it.  You  look  down  on  it  because  you 
think  its  ministers  are  ignorant.  I  want  to  know 
which  of  you  who  criticize  the  Church  in  this  way 
is  willing  to  give  your  life  to  make  conditions 
better?" 

"That  question,"  says  Dr.  DeBerry,  "was 
meant  for  me.  God  meant  it  for  me.  I  couldn't 
get  away  from  it,  day  or  night.  I  went  to  Dr. 
Hubbard  at  last  and  told  him  I  couldn't  come  to 
Meharry.  I  had  to  preach." 


A  City  Pastor  73 

DeBerry  went  to  Oberlin  for  his  theological 
course  and  won  a  scholarship.  He  was  assigned 
to  a  little  church  where  he  preached  on  Sundays 
and  during  vacation.  In  this  way,  together  with 
the  scholarship,  he  worked  his  way  through  to 
graduation. 

He  wanted  to  work  among  his  people  in  the 
South,  where  he  felt  the  need  was  greatest,  but 
when  he  graduated,  there  was  no  opening  in  a 
Southern  Congregational  church.  The  home  mis 
sion  board  advised  his  going  temporarily  to  a 
small  church  in  Springfield,  Massachusetts,  whose 
pastor  had  just  died.  He  went,  expecting  to 
stay  only  until  he  could  find  an  opening  in  the 
South.  He  has  remained  in  Springfield  twenty- 
two  years. 

St.  John's  Church  had  about  a  hundred  mem 
bers  when  William  DeBerry  became  its  pastor. 
There  was  no  parsonage,  but  they  wanted  a  mar 
ried  preacher.  This  suited  the  young  man  beau 
tifully.  He  went  back  to  Tennessee  and  married 
the  girl  who  was  waiting  for  him,  another  Fisk 
graduate,  and  brought  her  to  Springfield.  Of 
course  a  parsonage  had  to  be  built  then.  With  his 
wife  to  help  him,  the  new  pastor  began  to  build  up 
his  work  in  earnest. 

While  he  was  still  hoping  for  the  Southern  open 
ing,  the  missionary  authorities  of  his  church  be 
gan  to  send  him  to  large  white  gatherings  and  to 
churches  to  speak  of  church  work  among  the  Ne- 


74  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

groes  and  to  tell  what  the  chnrch  schools  were  ac 
complishing.  He  knew  the  need  as  only  a  Negro 
could;  he  knew  what  the  work  of  the  Church 
meant  in  his  own  life  and  in  that  of  his  friends ; 
and  his  heart  was  burdened  for  his  race.  He  spoke 
with  such  force  and  effect  that  wherever  he  went, 
he  made  friends  for  his  people  and  for  the  effort 
to  help  them.  At  last  the  Missionary  Association 
urged  him  to  stay  in  the  North.  They  felt  he  could 
do  more  for  his  people  in  this  way  than  in  any 
other. 

For  years  Mr.  DeBerry's  church  grew  stead 
ily  in  members,  in  liberality,  and  in  the  regard 
of  the  white  churches  of  the  city.  But  he  him 
self  was  not  satisfied.  He  had  received  calls  to 
several  large  churches,  and  now  one  came  from 
his  home  city  of  Nashville.  He  told  his  people 
he  could  not  stay  with  them  unless  they  would 
undertake  a  broader  service  to  the  colored  com 
munity  of  Springfield.  He  wanted  a  church  that 
would  be  open  seven  days  in  the  week,  helping 
people  on  work  days  and  rest  days  alike.  It 
seemed  an  almost  impossible  undertaking,  but  the 
elders  were  willing  to  follow  their  leader.  The 
church  raised  the  first  thousand  dollars  in  cash 
toward  a  new  church  and  then  went  to  work  to 
raise  more.  "With  this  backing,  Dr.  DeBerry  went 
to  the  white  church  and  to  white  friends.  The  re 
sult  is  a  big,  modern  church  on  a  large  corner  lot. 
It  has  a  beautiful  organ  and  fine  institutional 


A  City  Pastor  75 

equipment.  There  are  large,  well-furnished  par 
lors,  with  a  piano  and  a  victrola,  magazines  and 
books,  a  sub-station  of  the  public  library.  Prayer- 
meetings  are  held  here  on  Thursday  nights,  but  on 
all  other  week  nights  the  rooms  are  open  to  vari 
ous  clubs  for  women  and  girls  under  the  care  of  a 
trained  worker.  Three  hundred  are  enrolled  in 
these  clubs.  Downstairs  is  a  big  room  with  mov 
able  seats  for  Sunday-school  and  for  entertain 
ments.  Here  also  are  kindergarten  rooms,  the 
church  kitchen,  and  rooms  for  classes  in  cooking 
and  in  arts  and  crafts. 

The  clubs  for  boys  and  young  men,  which  have 
a  hundred  members  enrolled,  are  in  a  building 
around  the  corner,  where  are  billiard  tables, 
games,  books,  and  magazines.  A  brass  band  flour 
ishes  here  also.  A  printing-press  has  just  been 
bought,  and  printing  and  other  trades  are  to  be 
taught.  There  is  an  employment  bureau  for  men 
in  this  building,  and  one  for  women  in  the  parish 
house. 

Next  door  to  the  church  is  the  parish  home  for 
working  girls,  which  cost  $15,000.  It  contains  an 
apartment  for  the  pastor's  family  and  rooms  for 
fourteen  girls.  It  is  tastefully  furnished  and 
beautifully  kept.  Mrs.  DeBerry  acts  as  matron. 
The  rooms  are  always  full,  with  a  waiting  list  for 
vacancies.  Parlors  and  an  office  are  on  the  first 
floor.  In  the  basement  there  is  a  well-equipped 
laundry  and  a  kitchen  for  the  girls'  use,  with  small 


76  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

individual  lockers  in  which  each  girl  may  keep 
her  stock  of  groceries. 

During  the  war  the  munition  factories  of 
Springfield  attracted  numbers  of  colored  workers, 
and  the  housing  situation  became  acute.  A  white 
friend  of  St.  John's  bought  a  large  apartment 
house  and  let  it  to  colored  people  under  the 
church's  management.  Later,  the  property  was 
deeded  to  the  church.  Other  friends  who  believe 
in  the  pastor  and  in  the  kind  of  spiritual  and  so 
cial  upbuilding  he  is  doing,  followed  this  example. 
St.  John's  now  owns  a  number  of  small  houses 
in  addition  to  the  apartment  house  and  provides 
shelter  for  twenty-eight  families.  The  net  rent 
from  these  properties  goes  to  the  support  of  the 
institutional  work.  Recently  a  farm  of  fifty-four 
acres  was  given  to  the  church.  This  is  being  used 
for  vacation  groups  of  boys  and  men.  A  Hampton 
graduate  in  agriculture  has  charge  of  the  place. 
The  vacation  guests  this  summer  have  given  their 
mornings  to  work  on  the  farm  and  their  after 
noons  to  fishing,  games,  and  various  sports.  This 
part  of  the  work  is  as  yet  in  its  earliest  stages  of 
development. 

The  church  members  are  no  exception  to  their 
race  in  point  of  liberality.  Like  most  colored 
Christians,  they  put  white  people  to  shame  when 
it  comes  to  " giving  as  the  Lord  hath  prospered." 
The  membership  is  divided  into  circles,  each  unit 
of  which  does  his  or  her  part  in  a  cheerful  spirit 


A  City  Pastor  11 

of  teamwork.  But  the  expenses  are  heavy,  and 
the  church  could  not  meet  them  all,  even  with  the 
help  of  the  rents.  Including  the  pastor,  eleven 
paid  workers  are  necessary,  eight  of  them  giving 
full  time  to  the  work.  In  the  lean  days  since  the 
war,  there  is  the  same  unemployment  and  suffer 
ing  among  the  Negroes  as  among  the  white  poor. 
Some  help  has  been  given  by  the  white  Congrega 
tional  church,  but  for  the  social  work  the  principal 
aid  comes  from  the  Springfield  Community  Chest. 
This  fund  receives  the  gifts  of  all  citizens  for  all 
forms  of  community  service.  The  trustees  appor 
tion  it  among  carefully-selected  agencies.  To  St. 
John's  is  entrusted  the  amount  set  aside  for  social 
work  among  the  colored  people  of  the  city. 

Dr.  DeBerry,  in  addition  to  his  work  in  Spring 
field  and  his  wider  work  for  his  people  in  the  Con 
gregational  Church,  has  been  made  a  trustee  of 
Fisk  University,  his  alma  mater — an  honor  which 
any  college  graduate  appreciates.  The  Inter- 
church  World  Movement,  after  its  recent  survey 
of  American  churches,  reported  this  church  of  a 
colored  Tenriesseean  as  having  "the  most  efficient 
system  of  organization  and  work  of  any  church  in 
the  group  surveyed,  regardless  of  race  or  de 
nomination."  The  man  who  is  called  to  be  a  phy 
sician  has  a  noble  calling;  but  the  man  who  is 
called  to  preach  and  answers  with  his  whole  life 
need  not  fear  that  he  will  be  shut  up  to  a  service 
less  than  the  best. 


VI 
A  BELIEVER  IN  HAPPINESS 

NOT  so  very  many  years  ago  there  lived  in 
Georgia  a  little  colored  girl  who  needed  no 
fairy  godmother  for  she  had  some  of  the 
most  beautiful  gifts  in  the  world.    One  of  them 
was  a  mother  of  remarkable  character  and  insight ; 
one  was  an  inborn  spirit  of  happiness  which  noth 
ing  could  dampen  and  which  those  around  her 
found  contagious ;  and  one  was  an  opportunity  for 
development  such  as  few  children  of  her  race  and 
generation  dreamed  of. 

Janie's  mother,  a  widow,  was  housemaid  and 
seamstress  in  the  home  of  a  Northern  woman  of 
wealth  and  education  who  lived  in  the  South  for 
a  number  of  years.  The  little  colored  girl  came 
to  the  white  home  with  her  mother.  The  children 
in  the  family  were  about  her  own.  age,  and  they 
all  played  together,  as  would  have  been  the  case 
in  any  household  while  they  were  little.  The  white 
children  found  something  oddly  attractive  about 
Janie.  It  wasn't  just  that  she  was  pretty  or  that 
she  had  loose,  wavy  hair  and  a  skin  no  darker 
than  an  Italian's  or  that  wherever  she  was,  a  good 
time  was  sure  to  be  going  on;  it  was  something 
that  belonged  to  her  soul — a  kind  of  delight  in  liv- 

78 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  79 

ing  and  a  love  of  living  things  that  radiated  all 
about  her.  The  white  children  and  their  mother 
really  loved  her. 

When  her  mother  married  again  and  went 
back  and  forth  to  work  between  her  own  home  and 
her  employer's,  Janie  was  kept  at  the  "big  house" 
and  became  almost  a  member  of  the  family.  The 
children  were  read  to  a  great  deal,  and  Janie  was 
always  an  interested  listener.  As  the  years  went 
on,  she  gained  a  knowledge  and  love  of  good  lit 
erature  such  as  only  favored  folk  can  have.  She 
was  very  prettily  dressed,  her  room  was  daintily 
furnished,  and  all  her  surroundings  were  those 
of  refinement  and  ease.  She  knew  little  of  school, 
but  her  education  from  reading  and  from  her  asso 
ciations  was  superior  to  that  of  most  of  her  race. 

Life  went  on  pleasantly  for  the  children  until 
they  grew  old  enough  for  their  continued  com 
panionship  to  seem  strange  to  the  neighbors.  The 
mistress  of  the  house  loved  Janie  and  was  un 
willing  to  send  her  away  to  live  among  untaught 
Negroes.  The  life  of  the  average  colored  woman 
seemed  terribly  hard  to  the  Northern  white 
woman,  and  she  offered  to  send  Janie  North,  to 
give  her  as  good  an  education  as  could  be  had 
there,  and  to  establish  her  afterward  in  some  com 
munity  where  her  race  would  not  be  known  and 
where  life  would  be  easy  and  pleasant. 

"But  of  course,"  she  said  to  the  child 's  mother, 
"you  must  give  her  up.  You  must  make  me  her 


80  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

legal  guardian  and  agree  never  to  see  her  again. 
You  will  do  this  because  it  is  for  her  good  and 
because  you  love  her." 

But  the  mother  would  not  hear  of  it.  She  was 
wise  enough  to  know  that  no  good  can  come  to 
those  who  run  away  from  the  obligations  into 
which  they  are  born.  Janie  was  colored,  she 
said;  she  had  had  a  wonderful  chance  in  life,  so 
far ;  she  must  share  it  with  her  people.  She  might 
go  North  for  her  education, — her  mother  would 
be  most  grateful, — but  she  must  come  back  South 
to  live  and  work.  Furthermore,  her  mother  would 
never  give  her  up. 

They  argued  for  days.  The  white  woman,  firm 
in  what  she  thought  was  right,  refused  to  do  any 
thing  more  for  the  child  unless  she  were  given  to 
her  outright.  The  mother,  equally  determined, 
took  Janie  home  and  prepared  to  give  her  such 
an  education  as  she  could  afford. 

Janie 's  step-father  was  a  prosperous  Negro,  a 
worker  in  the  railroad  shops.  He  had  been  taught, 
as  a  slave,  the  trade  of  a  mechanic  and  had  been 
allowed  to  "hire  his  time"  before  the  Civil  War; 
that  is,  he  had  worked  where  he  pleased,  paying 
his  master  a  yearly  sum  to  offset  what  he  might 
have  been  worth  as  a  slave,  and  keeping  the  rest 
himself.  When  the  War  ended,  he  had  money 
enough  to  buy  some  land  and  build  himself  a  home. 
He  had  worked  and  saved  ever  since.  He  meant 
to  do  as  well  by  his  step-daughter  as  by  her  half- 


Photo   by  Foster,  Richmond,   Va, 
MRS.  JANIE  PORTER  BARRETT 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  81 

sisters,  his  own  children.  Janie  's  mother,  too,  had 
worked  and  saved;  and  if  Northern  colleges  were 
beyond  their  means,  Hampton  wasn't;  they  would 
send  her  there. 

The  white  woman  was  aghast.  "Oh,  Janie," 
she  wept,  "I've  ruined  your  life!  It's  a  work 
school!  They  require  rough  work  such  as  you 
have  never  done,  and  there  are  rough  students 
there,  such  as  I  never  meant  you  to  know.  Child, 
you'll  have  to  scrub  floors  there — I've  seen  them 
do  it.  Think  of  your  having  to  scrub  floors !" 

Janie  had  no  wild  desire  to  scrub,  and  she  felt 
a  bit  dashed  for  a  minute;  but  her  belief  in  the 
happy  possibilities  of  life  was  not  to  be  daunted. 
Something  rose  up  within  her  and  answered  al 
most  without  her  knowledge. 

"I  don't  believe  you've  ruined  my  life,"  she 
said  stoutly;  "I  don't  see  why  I  can't  do  some 
thing  for  my  people  yet  that  will  be  worth  all 
you've  done  for  me — and  worth  the  floor-scrub 
bing  too." 

Years  afterward  she  said  she  hadn't  an  idea  of 
doing  anything  for  her  people  when  she  spoke; 
she  didn't  know  where  the  words  came  from.  She 
wanted  to  make  her  weeping  friend  happy;  and 
in  the  crisis,  the  deepest  thing  in  her,  unknown  to 
her  as  yet,  stirred  to  life  and  spoke. 

So  she  went  to  Hampton  and  scrubbed  floors, 
and  incidentally  scrubbed  the  skin  off  her  knees. 

"I  hated  scrubbing  floors,"  she  said,  laughing 


82  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

as  she  told  of  it.  "I'd  never  learned  how.  But 
I  had  learned  that  I  must  obey,  so  whatever  they 
told  me  to  do,  I  did  the  best  I  could,  whether 
I  liked  it  or  not;  and  I  learned." 

But  helping  her  people!  She  didn't  want  to. 
Everybody  thought  it  so  great  and  solemn  an 
obligation.  Janie  hated  solemn  things — she 
wanted  fun.  She  was  homesick  for  the  old  home, 
the  old  friends,  the  old,  beautiful  refinements  of 
life.  Why  should  she  scrub  floors  or  help  ignorant 
folk? 

Then  one  day  she  read  a  book — Walter  Bes- 
ant's  All  Sorts  and  Conditions  of  Men.  All  young 
people  should  read  it.  "The  Palace  of  Delight" 
would  intrigue  their  hearts  as  it  did  hers;  and 
perhaps  it  would  change  their  lives  as  it  did  hers. 

"Why,  that's  helping  folks — to  make  them 
happy ! ' '  she  exclaimed.  '  *  It  needn  't  be  solemn  at 
all.  I'd  love  to  help  that  way;  and  I  will." 

Her  head  was  full  of  the  idea  after  that,  and 
her  heart  too.  When  she  graduated,  Janie  chose, 
out  of  several  places  offered  her,  to  teach  a  school 
in  a  little  community  in  the  "wire-grass  country," 
one  of  the  most  backward  places  in  Georgia  at 
that  time.  The  salary  could  hardly  be  discovered 
without  a  microscope. 

"Why,  child,"  gasped  her  mother,  "are  you 
crazy?  That's  no  place  for  you  to  go  to!" 

"I  don't  believe  they  ever  have  much  fun  down 
there, ' '  Janie  answered.  "  I  'm  going  to  give  them 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  83 

a  good  time.  Of  course  I  can't  live  on  the  '  salary' ; 
but  you  can  help  me  out. ' ' 

Janie's  mother  always  had  stood  by  her,  and 
she  did  now. 

They  had  a  good  time  in  that  community  that 
year.  Janie  visited  the  children's  homes  week 
ends  to  find  out  what  they  needed  most.  Such 
places!  Poor  souls,  no  outlook  on  life  at  all — 
just  a  grind  of  work  and  poverty  and  deprivation. 
She  taught  the  children  calisthenics  and  games. 
They  played.  They  bought  some  croquet  sets  and 
learned  the  game.  They  had  picnics  and  trips  in 
the  woods.  They  learned  in  school,  too.  And  the 
white  people  were  all  kind.  Janie  was  told  they 
wouldn't  be,  but  they  were. 

Then  she  was  offered  a  position  at  Hampton, 
and  in  the  fall  went  to  Virginia  for  life. 

In  1889  she  married  Harris  Barrett,  a  Hamp 
ton  graduate  who,  from  his  graduation  until  his 
death  in  1915,  was  cashier  and  bookkeeper  at 
Hampton.  He  took  her  to  the  home  he  had  bought 
for  her,  and  for  years  they  worked  over  it  to 
gether  until  it  became  a  beautiful  place.  One 
rule  they  made  and  never  broke:  nothing  was 
ever  to  go  into  the  home  that  was  not  theirs, 
paid  cash  for  to  the  last  cent  before  it  entered 
the  house.  The  furniture  came  piece  by  piece, 
and  was  the  better  loved  for  that  reason.  But 
Janie  had  to  have  some  lovely  things  to  start  with. 
She  called  her  home  the  " Palace  of  Delight,"  be- 


84  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

cause  she  meant  it  to  be  that  to  everybody  around 
her ;  and  though  a  palace  might  be  short  on  fur 
niture,  what  there  was  of  it  must  be  dainty  and 
beautiful.  She  asked  her  mother  to  give  her  only 
the  plainest  and  most  necessary  clothes  for  her 
wedding  outfit,  but  to  buy  her  some  household 
linen  and  solid  silver. 

" Silver!"  gasped  her  mother.  "I  can't  fit  you 
out  with  solid  silver,  child." 

"Oh,  no,"  agreed  Janie;  "I  don't  want  to  be 
*  fitted  out';  but  I  want  a  table  like  the  one  I  was 
brought  up  to  see  every  day — with  flowers  and 
the  whitest  cloth  and  enough  silver  spoons  and 
forks  for  us  two  to  eat  with.  I  can't  have  tin 
spoons  on  my  palace  table ! ' ' 

So  she  had  silver  things  from  her  mother  and 
from  her  many  friends  at  the  Institute,  and  added 
to  them,  piece  by  piece,  through  the  years.  When 
her  home  was  furnished,  with  a  good  many  gaps 
where  pretty  things  were  going  to  be  some  day, 
yet  dainty  and  attractive  as  far  as  it  went,  she 
hunted  up  people  to  give  a  good  time  in  it. 

She  found  them  literally  at  her  gate — the  little 
black  children  turned  out  in  the  streets  to  shift 
for  themselves  while  their  mothers  cooked  or 
washed  all  day.  Mrs.  Barrett  scrubbed  them 
clean  and  told  them  stories  and  played  games  with 
them.  In  no  time  she  had  a  whole  kindergarten 
on  her  hands.  Evenings  she  coaxed  in  the 
mothers  and  the  young  folks,  who  had  so  little 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  85 

chance  for  clean,  happy  fun  in  their  lives,  and 
some  of  the  men.  She  formed  clubs  for  all  of 
them.  While  they  were  having  a  good  time,  she 
showed  them  all  sorts  of  ways  of  better  and 
healthier  and  happier  living.  By  and  by  the 
"Palace  of  Delight "  wasn't  big  enough  to  hold 
the  people  who  flocked  to  it. 

All  this  time  Mrs.  Barrett  and  her  husband  were 
saving  money  for  a  bathroom.  She  wouldn't  have 
one  until  she  could  have  the  kind  she  wanted, — 
white-tiled,  with  a  set-in  tub,  and  a  beautiful  big 
bowl, — a  bathroom  to  enjoy  for  a  lifetime.  It 
would  cost  several  hundred  dollars;  and  at  last 
the  money  was  ready.  There  was  nothing  to  do 
but  select  the  fixtures  and  engage  the  workmen, 
when  in  came,  quite  uninvited,  the  most  discon 
certing  thought! 

For  a  long  time  Mrs.  Barrett  had  tried  tre 
mendously  hard  to  get  the  mothers  in  her  clubs 
to  love  cleanliness.  You  have  to  love  it  very  much 
to  keep  your  home  and  children  clean  when  you 
wash  or  cook  for  other  people  all  day  and  are  tired 
out  when  you  get  home.  Mrs.  Barrett  never  had 
to  work  out,  the  mothers  said;  she  had  time  to 
be  clean,  and  they  didn't.  Now  if  she  had  a  bath 
room — a  lovely,  shining,  white  place  with  hot  and 
cold  water  on  tap  instead  of  stone-cold  in  a  well 
down  the  street,  and  a  big  porcelain  tub  instead 
of  an  old  wash-tub  to  bathe  in — oh,  she  could  never 
do  anything  with  them  again!  They  would  say, 


86  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  our  hard  times 
— you  with  your  comforts  and  conveniences.  Let 
us  alone ! ' ' 

She  thought  about  it  a  long  time.  She  did 
so  want  that  bathroom!  She  had  dreamed  about 
it  so  long!  But  at  last  she  decided  she  wanted 
happiness  more — everybody's  happiness,  which 
is  the  only  real  kind,  though  everybody  doesn't 
know  it  yet.  She  talked  it  over  with  her  hus 
band,  who  always  understood  things,  and  they 
decided  to  spend  the  bathroom  money  on  a  com 
munity  house  to  be  built  in  their  own  yard.  When 
the  clubs  gave  entertainments,  as  they  constantly 
did,  the  house  wouldn't  hold  the  people  any  more. 
They  needed  a 'great  big  room.  And  so,  by  love's 
magic,  the  bathroom  became  a  house  that  was  all 
one  big  room  and  could  be  used  by  turns  for  a 
kindergarten,  a  bad-weather  play-ground,  a  club 
house,  a  gymnasium,  a  reading,  assembly,  concert, 
and  lecture  room — surely  the  most  Protean  bath 
room  ever  known. 

The  work  Mrs.  Barrett  was  doing  broadened 
until  it  touched  the  whole  colored  community. 
Teachers  and  students  at  Hampton  helped,  and 
many  an  Institute  boy  and  girl  found  there  inspi 
ration  for  community  service  in  their  own  far-off 
homes.  Love  is  always  like  that — a  seed  that 
grows,  bearing  other  seeds  that  fly  on  the  winds 
of  life  to  all  sorts  of  unsuspected  spots.  The 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  87 

"Palace  of  Delight "  came  true,  too  big  for  the 
walls  of  any  one  building  to  hold. 

Mrs.  Barrett's  work  did  more  than  leaven  the 
Negro  community:  it  built  a  bridge  between  the 
races.  Long  before  the  women's  federated  clubs 
generally  adopted  "Clean-up  Week,"  a  civic- 
minded  white  woman  of  Hampton,  a  leader  in  so 
cial  circles,  planned  a  "Clean-up"  for  her  town. 
She  knew  it  would  never  be  clean  without  the 
Negroes'  help,  and  having  heard  of  Mrs.  Barrett's 
work,  she  asked  her  help  with  the  colored  people. 
Thus  brought  together,  the  two  women  became 
friends,  with  large  consequences,  as  the  sequel  will 
show. 

During  these  happy  years,  tho  colored  club 
women  of  Virginia  made  Mrs.  Barrett  their  state 
president.  They  had  a  small,  struggling  organiza 
tion  with  a  very  few  hundred  members. 

"And  it  will  never  be  any  bigger,"  thought  the 
president,  "until  it  does  something  together — 
something  for  somebody  else  and  together. ' ' 

Who  needed  happiness  most?  Girls  needed  it, 
surely ;  girls  who  grew  up  without  care,  either  be 
cause  their  mothers  were  dead  or  because  they 
had  to  work  away  from  home  all  day  so  that 
their  children  grew  up  in  the  streets  and  never  had 
any  chance.  Her  heart  had  often  ached  over  such 
girls.  Sometimes  they  stole  something — a  trifle, 
usually,  or  they  got  into  some  other  trouble  the 


88  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

police  had  to  notice.  Then  they  were  sent  to  jail 
and  shut  up  with  hardened  criminals ;  not  taught 
anything  useful  or  good,  but  shut  up  where  there 
was  nothing  to  learn  but  sin.  And  yet  they  were 
just  children  who  had  had  no  chance.  Couldn't 
the  fortunate  colored  women  of  the  clubs  do  some 
thing  to  help  these  girls?  Perhaps  the  thought  of 
her  own  two  protected  daughters  helped  her  to 
see  the  need  of  these  unfortunate  girls  who  were 
neglected. 

So  she  and  all  the  club  women  went  to  work. 

"We  must  show  Virginia  that  colored  women 
can  be  useful  as  citizens/'  said  the  president; 
"that  we  can  and  will  serve  our  state  in  a  worth 
while  way.  We  will  take  this  poor  human  wreck 
age  that  is  such  a  dead  loss  and  waste  and  turn  it 
into  an  asset  for  the  state. " 

They  worked  three  years,  that  handful  of 
women,  and  they  raised  $5,300.  They  bought  a 
farm  of  a  hundred  and  forty  acres  at  Peake, 
eighteen  miles  from  Bichmond.  Mrs.  Barrett 
wrote  Dr.  Hart,  head  of  the  Child  Welfare  De 
partment  of  the  Eussell  Sage  Foundation,  for  ad 
vice  about  plans  for  an  industrial  training  school, 
and  he  gave  her  the  best  the  Foundation  had. 
The  school  was  to  be  built  on  the  cottage  plan, 
that  the  girls  might  have  the  home  life  they  had 
missed.  The  first  cottage,  built  of  concrete  and 
brick,  was  for  thirty  girls  and  cost  $8,000. 

The  women  wanted  the  state  to  help.     It  did 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  89 

nothing  now  for  delinquent  colored  girls,  and  they 
wanted  an  appropriation  for  the  building.  To 
get  it,  they  knew  they  must  have  white  people  on 
their  board  of  trustees.  So  Mrs.  Barrett  went 
to  the  civic-minded  white  woman  who  believed  in 
"clean-up  week."  She  was  interested  at  once. 
Soon  she  had  secured  the  white  half  of  the  board 
— herself,  and  two  Richmond  women  distinguished 
in  club  and  social  life,  the  rector  of  General  Lee 's 
old  church  in  Richmond,  a  prominent  business 
man,  and  one  or  two  others.  Mrs.  Barrett  se 
cured  Negroes  equally  well-known  among  their 
people  for  her  half  of  the  board;  and  then  the 
white  and  colored  women  went  together  to  the 
legislature.  The  committee  agreed  to  recommend 
an  appropriation  of  $3,000,  and  two  white  women 
promised  $2,000  more. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Mrs.  Barrett's  great 
sorrow  came.  Her  husband  died.  For  twenty-five 
years  they  had  lived  in  understanding  love.  One 
can  only  state  the  loss  and  leave  it. 

Dr.  Hart  wrote  her  that  when  the  house  at 
Peake  was  built,  she  ought  to  take  charge  of  it 
herself.  "You  had  the  vision,"  he  said;  "you 
must  go  there  and  make  it  come  true." 

She  showed  the  letter  to  a  white  friend  in  some 
indignation.  "I  go  to  Peake!"  she  exclaimed; 
"and  leave  my  lovely  home  and  my  friends  and 
all  my  pretty  things — to  eat  in  an  institution  din 
ing-room  off  thick  plates  with  tin  forks!  Of 


90  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

course  I'm  going  to  work  for  it  harder  than  ever; 
but  to  live  there !" 

Her  friend  looked  at  her  a  minute  and  then  said 
quietly,  "Of  course,  if  you  don't  feel  you  ought 
to  go,  that  settles  it." 

Somehow  she  could  not  get  away  from  these 
words.  Then  came  a  telegram  from  Eichmond. 
The  legislature,  about  to  pass  the  appropriation, 
had  received  a  protest  from  the  white  people  of 
the  Peake  community;  they  didn't  want  the  school 
there.  "The  legislature  won't  give  the  money 
in  the  face  of  this  protest,"  telegraphed  one  of 
the  white  women  trustees.  "What  shall  I  do?" 

Mrs.  Barrett  answered,  "Beg  them  to  give  us 
one  chance — to  try  us.  If  the  school  proves  ob 
jectionable,  I  promise  to  move  it." 

"That  settled  me,"  she  said,  laughing  a  little 
as  she  told  the  story.  "I  had  promised  to  move  it, 
and  I  wasn't  going  to  move  it,  so  it  was  up  to 
me  to  make  it  succeed.  I  went  there  to  live,  and 
I've  been  there  ever  since." 

"You  must  miss  your  home,"  it  was  suggested. 

She  looked  sober  for  a  minute  and  then  laughed. 

"Oh,  well,  I  carried  my  silver  spoons — and 
sometimes,  on  grand  occasions,  I  use  them.  My 
two  girls  have  been  so  sweet  about  it.  And  the 
other  girls — did  you  notice  when  you  went  over 
the  place  any  difference  between  the  girls  in  the 
new  cottage — the  fifty-nine  new-comers — and  the 
honor  girls  in  the  first  cottage?" 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  91 

"I  certainly  did,"  was  the  reply.  "The  honor 
girls  had  a  look — it  was  as  though  something  in 
side  of  them  had  waked  up." 

" That's  it,"  she  cried.  " That's  it  exactly! 
Their  souls  wake  up.  There  is  scarcely  a  girl 
there  who  isn't  a  Christian,  and  their  lives  and 
their  work  show  it.  We  fail  sometimes ;  but  when 
our  girls  go  out  on  parole  they  nearly  all  make 
good.  Most  of  them  go  out  to  service — until  they 
marry.  They  all  know  how  to  make  a  good  home 
when  they  leave  us.  Some  of  them  win  scholar 
ships  in  good  schools  and  become  teachers.  Some 
of  our  old  girls  teach  here  now." 

During  the  World  War  Mrs.  Barrett  had  a  sur 
prise.  One  afternoon  when  she  was  out,  a  party 
of  white  people  came  from  Washington,  inspected 
everything  on  the  place,  and  went  off.  Soon  after, 
there  came  from  the  federal  government  an  offer 
of  $20,000  to  enlarge  the  place  for  work  among 
the  colored  girls  around  the  Virginia  camps,  if  the 
state  would  give  $20,000  to  match  it.  The  state 
did,  promptly,  and  two  buildings  were  erected 
which  were  crowded  all  during  the  war. 

The  first  cottage  is  the  "honor  cottage"  to 
which  the  best  girls  are  promoted  with  privi 
leges  after  proving  their  trustworthiness.  The 
girls  in  this  honor  cottage  are  those  whose  faces 
showed  so  plainly  the  spirit  which  had  been  kin 
dled  within  them.  In  the  white  uniforms  which 
they  are  allowed  to  wear  on  Sundays  and  special 


92  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

occasions,  they  are  a  happy,  promising  looking 
group. 

The  third  building  is  a  big  one,  midway  between 
the  other  two,  and  still  little  more  than  a  shell. 
It  was  a  crowded  dormitory  in  war  days,  a  real 
emergency  building,  where  many  a  neglected  girl 
obtained  shelter  and  care  and  a  start  toward 
better  things.  It  is  used  now  for  class-rooms,  for 
entertainments,  and  for  industries.  Eventually  it 
will  be  finished  and  equipped  in  a  manner  worthy 
of  the  great  commonwealth  to  which  it  belongs. 
This  faith  which  Virginia  has  in  the  work  the 
school  is  doing  was  strikingly  shown  two  or  three 
years  ago  when  the  state  legislature  passed  the 
following  resolution : 


Whereas,  it  has  come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  General  Assembly 
that  most  valuable  and  important  services  have  been  rendered  by 
the  colored  women  of  the  State  of  Virginia,  known  and  organized 
as  the  "Virginia  State  Federation  of  Colored  Women's  Clubs,"  and 

Whereas,  this  organization  originated,  raised  funds  for,  and 
established  an  institution  for  the  reform  of  wayward  colored 
girls  in  the  establishment  of  the  Industrial  Home  School  at 
Peake,  Hanover  County,  Virginia,  which  has  met  with  signal 
success  and  performed  services  of  reform  and  conservation  at 
this  vital  time,  when  all  the  services  of  all  the  people  are  so 
sorely  needed, 

Therefore,  be  it  resolved,  by  the  House  of  Delegates,  the  Senate 
concurring,  that  the  services  and  sacrifices  on  the  part  of  these 
citizens  be  recognized,  and  that  this  resolution  express  our  ap 
preciation  of  this  work  looking  to  the  betterment  of  the  morals 
of  the  State  of  Virginia. 

Certainly  Mrs.  Barrett  has  made  good.  Of  the 
white  neighbors  who  feared  to  have  such  an  insti- 


A  Believer  in  Happiness  93 

tution  come  among  them,  not  one  can  be  found 
to-day  who  is  not  a  warm  friend  of  the  school.  In 
the  state,  appreciation  of  the  work  has  so  grown 
that  support  of  it,  at  first  entirely  borne  by  the 
colored  women,  and  then  shared  by  them  and  the 
state,  has  been  entirely  taken  over  by  the  state. 

But  that  isn't  the  whole  story.  Loving-kind 
ness  is  a  very  contagious  thing.  Down  in  South 
Carolina  the  State  Commissioner  of  Charities  and 
Correction  heard  of  Peake,  and  so  did  the  colored 
women's  clubs.  They  decided  that  the  colored 
women  should  begin  a  similar  work  in  their  state, 
the  Commissioner  to  help  them  in  every  way  he 
could.  Accordingly,  the  South  Carolina  colored 
women  started  a  school.  They  have  run  it  now 
for  two  years,  and  they  have  done  so  well  with 
it  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  after-the-war 
money  troubles  of  the  country  and  the  farmers' 
losses  in  cotton,  the  state  would  probably  have 
taken  it  over  before  this.  But  even  though  that 
step  must  wait,  the  white  people  are  helping  in 
other  ways. 

So  good  work  spreads.  As  time  goes  on,  there 
will  be  more  schools  and  fewer  prisons  every 
where  because  people  will  see  more  and  more 
clearly  that  the  just  and  sensible  thing  to  do  is 
to  take  care  of  the  children  who  have  had  no 
chance,  and  more  people  will  understand  the  re 
sponsibility  their  own  opportunities  have  placed 
upon  them. 


VII 
A  BUILDER  OF  PROSPERITY 

IN  Nottoway  County,  Virginia,  in  a  little  coun 
try  village  lives  John  Pierce,  a  man  who 
serves  his  country  in  eight  states.  He  is  a 
Negro,  and  his  service  is  primarily  to  his  own 
people;  yet  it  is  of  scarcely  less  importance  to 
white  people  than  to  his  own  race. 

The  reasons  for  this  fact  are  plain.  All  mer 
chants  are  helped  when  ill-housed,  poorly-clad,  un 
derfed  people  become  able  to  buy  lumber  and 
plumbing  and  electric  lights  and  screens  and  rugs 
and  furniture,  to  build  and  furnish  comfortable 
homes.  The  grocers  and  butchers  and  dry-goods 
men  make  more  money  when  those  who  have  been 
poor  become  able  to  buy  plenty  of  good  food  and 
comfortable  clothes.  They  will  soon  want  farm 
machinery,  too,  and  automobiles  and  fertilizers 
and  books  and  musical  instruments  and  life  and 
fire  insurance — everything,  in  fact,  that  anybody 
in  America  makes  a  living  by  selling. 

People  who  are  prospering  also  have  money  to 
put  in  banks.  If  the  government  needs  to  borrow 
money,  these  people  can  lend  it.  The  Negroes 
in  the  South  were  once  an  almost  beggared  folk, 
but  during  the  World  War,  a  single  business  com- 

94 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  95 

pany  of  Negroes,  the  Mutual  Life  Insurance  Com 
pany  of  Durham,  North  Carolina,  bought  $300,000 
worth  of  Liberty  Bonds,  a  Negro  in  Louisiana 
bought  $100,000  worth,  a  Negro  farmer  near  Tus- 
kegee,  Alabama,  who  has  made  every  cent  of  his 
money  out  of  his  land,  gave  his  check  for  $20,000 
worth  of  bonds  at  one  time,  and  the  Negroes  alto 
gether  put  $225,000,000  into  Liberty  Bonds  and 
War  Savings  Stamps,  besides  giving  great  sums 
to  the  Bed  Cross.  Was  it  not  better  for  our  gov 
ernment  and  our  cause  and  for  every  kind  of  busi 
ness  in  America,  that  these  people  were  no  longer 
the  penniless  slaves  they  had  been  sixty  years 
before  ? 

John  Pierce  was  born  in  Greensboro,  Alabama. 
His  father,  a  devout  Christian,  was  a  brick-layer 
and  a  hard  worker.  His  mother  was  a  hard 
worker,  too,  and  a  Christian  whose  daily  living 
impressed  all  who  knew  her.  But  despite  hard 
work,  the  family  was  very  poor.  Not  only  were 
wages  low,  but  there  were  ten  children  to  feed  and 
clothe,  all  healthy  and  hungry  and  as  busy  as 
only  children  can  be  in  wearing  out  and  outgrow 
ing  their  clothes.  It  was  a  hard  test,  such  pov 
erty  as  theirs,  yet  they  met  it  cheerfully  and  with 
much  love  for  one  another. 

Their  main  trouble  lay  in  how  to  get  an  edu 
cation.  In  those  days  few  colored  people  were 
prepared  to  teach,  and  in  the  long  years  of  pov 
erty  in  the  South  after  the  Civil  War,  there  was 


96  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

very  little  money  for  schools  for  either  white  or 
black  people.  The  colored  schools  would  have 
been  even  poorer  than  they  were,  had  the  Negroes 
themselves  not  made  sacrifices,  sometimes  little 
less  than  heroic,  to  eke  out  the  school-money  given 
by  the  county.  John's  mother,  hard  as  she  strug 
gled,  took  the  teacher  to  board  at  half  what  she 
was  asked  for  board  anywhere  else,  because  she 
felt  that  the  mere  presence  of  a  better-educated 
woman  in  the  home  would  help  her  children  to 
better  ways  of  speech  and  a  better  outlook  on  life. 

As  soon  as  he  was  old  enough,  John  followed 
the  family  tradition  and  went  to  work.  By  the 
time  he  was  ten,  he  was  helping  his  father  lay 
bricks.  Of  course  he  had  done  other  things  be 
fore  then.  He  had  been  "totin'  chips "  from  the 
woodpile  to  the  kitchen  ever  since  he  could  walk, 
and  ll  chopping  cotton "  in  the  little  family  patch, 
and  picking  it,  too,  from  the  time  he  was  five  or 
six.  From  the  white  folks'  house  to  his  mother's 
tubs  and  big  iron  pot  in  the  back  yard,  he  could 
carry  on  his  head  an  amazing  bundle  of  "  wash- 
in  '  "  all  tied  up  in  a  sheet;  and  he  could  take  it 
back  again,  snowy  white,  still  on  his  head,  but 
folded  carefully  in  a  big  basket  of  ' '  splits. ' '  John 
didn't  mind  the  load,  for  he  was  proud  to  be 
trusted  and  to  help. 

Even  wrhen  he  was  a  little  chap,  he  had  friends 
among  the  white  people  and  earned  many  a  wel 
come  nickel  by  running  errands.  His  mother 


J'ltoto   l)U  flu-Hue's  Studio,  Hampton,  Ya. 
JOHN  B.  PIERCE 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  97 

taught  her  children  to  be  honest  and  to  work  hon 
estly,  and  for  this  reason  people  trusted  them. 
They  were  thrifty,  too.  When  they  would  earn  a 
nickel  or  a  dime,  their  mother  taught  them  to  save 
it.  As  a  result,  when  John  Pierce  went  to  Tuske- 
gee,  he  had  money  saved,  and  it  helped  him  to  get 
a  start. 

The  same  ambition  that  led  his  mother  to  take 
the  school-teacher  to  board,  was  largely  responsi 
ble  for  John's  going  to  Tuskegee.  Booker  Wash 
ington  came  to  Greensboro  once  when  John  was 
just  a  boy.  His  mother  had  heard  something 
about  the  man  who  was  helping  so  many  Negro 
boys  and  girls,  and  she  had  him  come  and  stay 
at  her  house  that  she  might  find  out  more  about 
means  of  securing  an  education  for  her  children. 
Mr.  Washington  told  her  all  about  Tuskegee, 
how  boys  and  girls  could  work  their  way  there 
even  if  they  had  no  money.  That  settled  things. 
John  went  to  Tuskegee,  and  so  did  his  sister 
and  several  of  his  brothers.  The  first  year  he 
was  at  school,  his  father  died.  He  wanted  to 
go  home  at  once  and  take  charge  of  things,  but 
his  mother  would  not  hear  of  it.  She  told  him  to 
stay  where  he  was  and  to  make  the  most  of  his 
opportunity,  that  that  was  the  best  way  to  help 
her,  and  that  she  and  the  younger  children  would 
manage  alone. 

When  John  graduated,  Mr.  Washington  recom 
mended  him  as  a  teacher  of  brick-laying  and  other 


98  In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

work  at  the  Quaker  school  at  High  Point,  North 
Carolina,  where  he  taught  for  two  years.  One 
day  he  found  on  the  ground  some  clay  that  would 
make  brick.  He  and  his  pupils  dug  it  out,  used 
the  excavation  for  a  cellar,  made  the  bricks,  and 
built  a  dormitory  with  student  labor. 

At  that  time — it  was  while  Cleveland  was  presi 
dent — there  was  great  business  depression  in  the 
country.  It  was  a  very  hard  time  for  the  Negroes. 
Grown  men  worked  all  day  for  fifty  cents  or  even 
less ;  tenants  could  not  make  anything  out  of  their 
cotton.  They  lived  the  year  round  on  corn-pone 
and  bacon,  and  the  farmers  they  worked  for  had 
to  advance  them  that.  The  cotton  hardly  paid 
in  the  fall  for  their  poor  food.  They  were  sunk 
in  a  hopeless  grind  of  drudgery,  with  not  one 
comfort  in  life.  John  Pierce  was  greatly  trou 
bled.  He  knew  there  was  a  better  way;  he  had 
seen  it  at  Tuskegee.  All  those  tenants  could  have 
raised  vegetables  for  the  year  round  if  they  had 
only  known  how,  and  they  could  have  had  chickens 
and  ducks  and  eggs  and  could  have  lived  well. 
And  if  they  would  learn  how  to  do  better  farm 
ing,  they  could  raise  bigger  crops  and  have  enough 
even  to  sell  some.  Gradually  they  could  live  in 
real  homes  instead  of  huts,  and  they  could  educate 
their  children  and  have  money  in  the  bank.  He 
wanted  to  show  them  how. 

But  he  knew  he  had  to  learn  more  himself  be 
fore  he  could  teach  others.  He  had  seen  the  farm- 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  99 

ing  at  Tuskegee  and  knew  what  could  be  done; 
but  he  had  not  learned  farming,  his  work  having 
been  in  the  trades.  He  had  to  know  about  analyz 
ing  the  soil  and  building  it  up  and  rotating  crops 
and  a  lot  of  things  an  agriculturist  should  know. 

He  took  what  money  he  had  saved  and  went 
to  Hampton.  He  partly  worked  his  way  there 
and  worked  in  summer  on  the  school  farm.  For 
three  years  he  studied  and  finished  all  the  post 
graduate  work  in  agriculture.  Part  of  the  time  he 
was  assistant  instructor  in  the  Whittier  School 
gardens  at  Hampton,  and  after  he  graduated,  he 
was  instructor  in  the  normal  agricultural  work, 
both  in  class  and  in  the  gardens  for  three  years 
more.  The  head  of  the  State  Relations  Service 
in  Washington  said  his  work  was  the  best  in 
school  gardens  in  the  United  States. 

In  the  spring  of  1906  Mr.  Pierce  began  to  do 
the  work  he  had  been  looking  forward  to.  He 
went  out  from  Hampton  on  extension  work  to 
near-by  places — school  gardens  and  farm  demon 
strations.  The  government  had  no  farm  demon 
stration  work  among'Negroes  then,  but  in  the  fall 
the  General  Education  Board  offered  to  pay  the 
salaries  of  some  Negro  demonstration  agents  if 
the  Department  would  select  the  men  and  take 
charge  of  their  work.  Mr.  Pierce  was  made 
county  agent  and  later  state  agent  for  colored 
work. 

When  he  goes  to  a  meeting  which  the  county 


100         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

agent  has  worked  up,  the  district  agent  goes  with 
him,  and  they  have  meetings  for  one  or  two  or 
three  days.  They  talk  over  the  school  situation 
and  make  plans  to  better  it.  They  spray  fruit 
trees  and  potatoes,  make  the  proper  kind  of  sweet- 
potato  beds,  test  seeds  and  soils,  and  plant  cotton 
and  corn  and  tobacco  in  demonstration  fields,  ex 
plaining  everything  as  they  go.  They  test  cattle 
for  tuberculosis  and  immunize  hogs  from  cholera. 
The  farmers  learn  much  better  if  they  see  the 
things  actually  done  as  well  as  hear  that  they 
should  be  done.  They  pull  down  a  poor  poultry 
house  or  an  insanitary  toilet  and  build  it  back 
again  right.  They  show  the  people  how  to  screen 
their  houses,  how  to  keep  their  water-supply  pure, 
how  to  grow  and  store  vegetables,  how  to  grow 
flowers  and  make  things  attractive.  They  do  not 
do  all  these  things  every  time  at  every  place,  but 
as  many  as  they  can  each  time.  Sometimes  the 
people  come  from  adjoining  counties,  and  they  all 
bring  their  problems  and  ask  questions.  The 
wives  and  children  come  too — especially  the  boys. 
Pig  and  corn  clubs  are  started,  in  which  the  boys 
and  girls  make  their  own  money  and  save  it  for 
schooling  or  to  buy  a  little  land.  Often  at  these 
demonstrations  the  boys  put  on  a  ball  game  in  the 
afternoon,  and  the  girls  of  the  canning  clubs  put 
on  contests  and  games. 

In  telling  of  these   things,  Mr.   Pierce   said: 
"Yesterday  I  was  over  in  a  county  where  weVe 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  101 

put  on  a  special  poultry  campaign.  We  had  about 
a  hundred  people — men,  women,  and  children.  We 
pulled  down  and  reconstructed  a  chicken  house, 
freed  it  of  mites  and  the  hens  of  lice,  taught  how 
to  breed  for  better  stock,  how  to  feed  for  eggs, 
and  how  to  keep  eggs  for  winter.  When  the  meet 
ing  was  over,  the  women  made  lemonade,  the  boys 
and  girls  put  on  games,  and  we  all  had  a  social 
time.  There'll  be  a  new  poultry  record  in  that 
county  after  this,  better  fare  on  the  tables,  and 
more  money  for  little  comforts  and  conveniences 
in  the  homes. " 

When  America  entered  the  War,  and  it  was 
vital  to  speed  up  food  production,  Mr.  Pierce  was 
put  in  charge  of  the  colored  work  in  eight  states 
— Maryland,  Virginia,  the  Carolinas,  West  Vir 
ginia,  Tennessee,  Kentucky,  and  Arkansas.  The 
extension  work  the  Government  had  been  doing 
for  ten  or  twelve  years  was  largely  responsible  for 
the  intelligence,  loyalty,  and  efficiency  with  which 
the  Negroes  responded  to  the  country's  call.  It 
was  largely  responsible,  too,  for  the  good  relations 
existing  between  the  races.  The  white  people  see 
how  much  better  it  is  in  every  way  and  for  every 
one  for  the  colored  people  to  prosper,  and  they 
aid  the  work  wherever  it  is  established.  In  speak 
ing  of  his  work,  Mr.  Pierce  said,  "I  am  just  back 
from  a  meeting  in  Henderson,  Tennessee,  pro 
moted  by  the  cashier  of  the  white  bank.  We  had 
five  hundred  people  out,  a  number  of  them  white. 


102         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

We  often  have  white  people,  especially  the  county 
superintendent  of  education,  and  people  of  both 
races  talk.  It  cultivates  a  friendly  feeling;  and 
the  white  people  take  an  interest.  Over  in  Hen 
derson  they're  planning  new  buildings  for  our 
schools.  Out  in  Arkansas,  in  Elaine,  where  the 
riots  were,  white  people  are  employing  colored 
farm  demonstration  agents.  There  was  a  meet 
ing  in  Little  Kock,  too,  and  the  governor  and  the 
secretary  of  state  recognized  the  need  of  better 
state  colleges  of  agriculture.  They  said  the 
Negroes  could  count  on  having  better  provision 
made  for  them." 

The  record  of  crop  yields  is  an  interesting  com 
mentary  on  John  Pierce 's  life-work.  Fifteen 
years  ago  the  average  yield  of  corn  in  Virginia 
was  fifteen  bushels  per  acre.  Now  it  is  forty 
bushels,  and  in  the  last  five  years  men  have  often 
raised  as  high  as  seventy-five  bushels  per  acre. 
Cooperation  is  growing,  too.  The  white  farmers 
are  forming  associations  to  market  their  crops 
better,  and  they  admit  the  colored  farmers  on 
exactly  the  same  terms  as  the  white.  That  means 
more  money  for  all  the  people  and  more  friend 
liness,  too.  In  Charlotte  County  the  county  asso 
ciation  has  put  a  colored  farmer  on  the  executive 
committee.  The  interracial  committees  also  co 
operate  with  the  farmers. 

The  story  of  Wellville  and  Nottoway  County, 
John  Pierce 's  home  territory,  is  another  example 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  103 

of  this  man's  ability  and  helpfulness  to  his  coun 
try.  Wellville  is  just  a  village,  with  Blackstone 
the  nearest  town.  When  Mr.  Pierce  went  there  in 
1908  the  schoolhouses  were  one-roomed  log  cabins ; 
school  ran  five  months;  there  were  only  " emer 
gency  "  teachers  in  the  whole  county — those  who 
have  not  even  the  lowest  certificate.  They  each 
received  twenty-five  dollars  a  month  the  five 
months  they  taught. 

The  colored  people  bought  some  land  and  deeded 
it  to  the  school  board.  The  white  people  gave 
lumber,  and  the  Negroes  gave  labor.  They  built  a 
good  one-roomed  school,  painted  it,  and  fitted  it 
out  with  patent  desks.  Such  a  school  is  now  in 
every  colored  community  in  the  county,  with  teach 
ers  holding  first  or  second  grade  certificates. 
They  run  seven  months  of  the  year,  and  the  teach 
ers  get  fifty  dollars  a  month. 

Agricultural  teaching  and  farm  demonstration 
work  have  gone  on  all  over  the  county.  Corn 
production  has  risen  from  fifteen  to  seventy-five 
bushels  an  acre,  and  other  crops  have  increased  in 
the  same  way.  The  people  put  in  " cover  crops" 
to  build  up  and  preserve  the  soil;  and  they  have 
vegetables  the  year  round. 

The  houses  used  to  be  built  of  logs.  Over  sev 
enty-five  per  cent  of  them  have  been  rebuilt  or 
remodeled,  and  painted  or  whitewashed.  They 
all  have  sanitary  outbuildings.  Musical  instru 
ments  are  now  in  the  homes,  the  people  have  better 


104         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

clothes,  and  they  have  money  in  the  bank.  The 
church  at  Wellville  was  poor  and  there  was  no 
way  to  baptize  the  people  in  it.  It  was  remodeled, 
a  baptistery  was  put  in,  and  church  finances  were 
put  on  a  business  basis.  The  church  is  now  used 
as  a  community  center.  At  first  the  pastors  of 
country  churches  thought  it  was  not  religious  to 
use  a  church  to  talk  about  community  health  or 
to  give  community  pleasure;  but  all  that  has 
changed  in  Nottoway — and  in  many  other 
counties,  also. 

Mr.  Pierce 's  extension  work  was  the  beginning 
of  the  County  Training  School  at  Blackstone. 
"We  can't  claim  credit  for  all  of  it,"  he  said, 
when  asked  about  it.  "We  had  co-operation 
from  colored  and  white  people  too."  The 
colored  people  raised  a  certain  amount,  and 
the  county  board  promised  so  much  more.  The 
colored  people  agreed  to  employ  at  least  five  teach 
ers,  to  have  eight  grades  and  an  eight  months' 
school,  to  have  instruction  in  agriculture  and  home 
industries,  and  an  elementary  course  in  the  art  of 
teaching.  As  soon  as  possible,  they  were  to  add 
at  least  two  years  of  high  school  work.  That  is 
the  standard  for  a  county  training  school;  and 
where  it  is  met,  the  Slater  Fund  and  the  General 
Education  Board  both  cooperate  with  the  county 
board  and  bear  part  of  the  expense.  There  is  a 
fine  school  at  Blackstone  now,  with  seven  or  eight 
teachers,  and  they  will  never  lack  for  good  teach- 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  105 

ers  in  the  county  again.  There  are  dormitories 
for  those  who  live  too  far  away  to  go  back  and 
forth,  and  land  for  school  gardens  and  for  pig  and 
poultry  and  farm  demonstration  work. 

By  this  time  Dr.  Knapp,  of  the  Department  of 
Agriculture  at  Washington,  thought  Mr.  Pierce 
had  done  enough  for  the  people  in  Virginia  and 
wanted  to  get  him  down  in  the  Gulf  States.  But 
the  white  people  rose  up  and  refused  to  let  him  go. 

"The  white  people  are  good  friends  to  us  here 
in  Virginia,"  said  Mr.  Pierce.  "It  is  good  for  the 
colored  people  to  feel  safe.  In  Blackstone  a  col 
ored  man  committed  a  horrible  crime.  The  city 
officials  feared  a  lynching  and  telegraphed  the  gov 
ernor  for  troops,  but  the  leading  white  men  of 
the  town  got  together,  telegraphed  the  governor 
their  pledge  that  the  man  should  have  a  fair  trial 
and  asked  him  to  let  them  guard  Blackstone 's 
good  name.  No  troops  were  sent,  and  those  white 
men  guarded  the  jail  and  the  courtroom  until  the 
trial  was  over  and  the  prisoner  lawfully  executed. 
It  made  the  colored  people  feel  they  could  get 
justice  there  and  a  fair  trial.  They  are  buying 
homes  and  putting  their  money  in  the  banks. 

"My  own  boys  are  getting  a  start  already. 
They  go  seven  miles  and  back  every  day  to  school 
at  Blackstone.  In  addition  they  each  cultivate  a 
piece  of  land  and  bank  their  money.  This  sum 
mer  they  cut  fifteen  tons  of  hay  from  their  land 
and  sold  it  for  thirty  dollars  a  ton." 


106         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Looking  at  the  quiet,  kindly  face,  peaceful  with 
years  of  service,  despite  the  many  outward 
struggles,  one  wondered  if  there  have  been  any 
very  sharp  inward  struggles — temptations  and 
difficulties  that  threatened  to  wreck  his  life. 

"Why,  of  course, "  he  said  slowly  in  response 
to  such  a  question.  "Every  one  has  temptations 
enough  to  prove  his  mettle.  There  have  been 
those  who  would  exploit  the  farmers,  one  way  or 
another,  and  I  could  have  made  a  good  deal  of 
money  if  I  had  agreed  to  help  them  in  their 
schemes.  But  I — things  like  that  never  really 
mattered.  You  see,  for  all  our  family  our  mother 
has  been — well,  just  a  clear  light  before  us.  It 
was  always  so,  and  even  the  white  people  knew 
it.  When  I  was  a  little  fellow  at  Greensboro,  an 
other  colored  boy  set  on  me  one  day  in  the  street. 
I  fought  him  off  the  best  I  could — he  was  bigger 
than  I — and  a  policeman  came  along  and  took  us 
both  up  to  the  city  court.  The  judge  sent  the 
other  boy  to  jail  and  told  me  to  run  along  home. 
He  said  he  knew  my  mother,  and  he  knew  how  she 
raised  her  children.  She  was  just  like  that." 

"Did  she  live  long  enough  to  know  anything 
about  this  work  you  are  doing  now?"  he  was 
asked. 

His  whole  face  lighted  up.  "Why,  she's  living 
now,  down  in  Greensboro!  I  see  her  every  now 
and  then.  All  her  children  want  her  to  live  with 
them — we  can  all  take  good  care  of  her;  but  she 


A  Builder  of  Prosperity  107 

likes  to  stay  on  in  the  old  home.  So  we  all  take 
care  of  her  there  and  see  her  when  we  can.  She 
knows  all  about  my  work. ' ' 

Thinking  of  one's  own  home  and  of  those  in  it 
who  have  grown  to  manhood  and  womanhood,  one 
knows  that  the  highest  honor  which  can  come 
to  any  woman  is  that  she  should  be  "a  clear  light 
before ' '  her  children.  Ignorant,  this  poor  woman 
may  have  been,  struggling  on  in  grinding  poverty 
through  years  of  hardest  work,  but  measured  by 
God's  standards,  which  are  the  only  real  ones, 
tliis  colored  mother  had  attained. 


VIII 
A  WOMAN  BANKER 

ON  a  corner  just  a  block  from  Broad  Street, 
in  Eiclunond,  Virginia,  stands  a  handsome 
three-story  building  of  brick   and   stone 
which  bears  a  tablet  with  the  legend,  "St.  Luke's 
Penny  Savings  Bank.    Established  1902. "    This 
is  said  to  be  the  first  bank  in  the  country  founded 
by  a  woman,  and  it  is  still  one  of  the  very  few 
that  have   a  woman  president — the   only   bank 
founded  or  run  by  a  colored  woman. 

St.  Luke's  Bank  started  with  $25,000  of  paid-up 
capital.  This  was  afterwards  increased  to 
$50,000;  and  it  has  a  surplus  of  $25,000  more.  It 
has  paid  its  stockholders  a  five  per  cent  dividend 
steadily,  regardless  of  panics  and  hard  times ;  and 
once,  during  a  severe  money  stringency,  when  the 
white  banks  of  Richmond  were  unable  to  extend 
further  loans  to  the  city,  this  colored  woman 
banker  lent  the  city  $100,000  in  cash  to  carry 
on  the  public  schools  for  both  the  white  and  black 
races. 

How  did  the  daughter  of  a  colored  laundress 
and  one-time  slave  come  to  start  a  bank  and  guide 
it  to  success  through  twenty-one  years  filled  with 
other  important  work?  Something  went  before  it, 

108 


A  Woman  Banker  109 

of  course;  not  merely  unusual  ability,  which  she 
plainly  has,  but  long,  hard,  faithful  work  in  help 
ing  the  poorer  members  of  her  race  to  win  through 
in  times  of  adversity  and  to  get  on  their  feet. 

Mrs.  Maggie  L.  Walker  was  born  in  Richmond. 
Her  mother  was  Elizabeth  Mitchell — a  woman 
born  a  slave  and  unable  to  make  a  living  for  her 
self  and  her  little  girl  except  at  the  washtub.  But 
what  she  could  do,  she  did  well,  and  her  own  lack 
of  opportunity  fixed  in  her  the  determination  that 
her  child  should  have  a  chance.  What  this  deter 
mination  cost  the  mother  in  toil  and  sacrifice  one 
may  not  know, — washing  was  not  a  lucrative 
profession  in  those  days  in  the  South.  But 
mother  and  daughter  took  their  hardships  cheer 
fully,  and  the  girl  did  her  best  to  lighten  her 
mother's  load  so  far  as  she  could.  When  she  was 
eighteen,  she  graduated  from  high  school,  and 
that  fall  became  a  teacher  in  one  of  the  public 
schools.  From  that  time  to  the  present,  one  of 
her  main  purposes  in  life  has  been  to  make  life 
easier  for  the  mother  to  whose  sacrifices  she  owes 
her  first  start  toward  better  things. 

Mrs.  Walker  was  married  when  she  was  twenty 
and  went  into  the  business  of  home-making  with 
the  same  joyful  and  energetic  efficiency  which 
had  marked  her  work  as  a  teacher.  Her  husband, 
a  skilled  workman,  prospered,  and  with  his  wife's 
good  management,  they  and  their  two  little  sons 
lived  in  comfort  and  began  to  prosper. 


110         In  tlie  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

As  the  boys  grew  older  and  went  to  school,  the 
mother  found  herself  growing  restless.  She  was 
well  and  strong,  her  home  work  was  thoroughly 
organized  and  went  like  clock-work,  her  husband 
and  the  boys  were  away  most  of  the  day,  and 
although  her  church  work  had  grown  considerably, 
she  still  had  time  on  her  hands  for  more  work. 
"I  felt  like  a  spendthrift,"  she  said,  in  speaking 
of  this  time.  "I  knew  I  had  the  energy  to  do  a 
lot  of  things  for  my  people  that  needed  doing,  and 
I  felt  I  ought  to  be  about  it  some  way.  Yet  I 
didn't  know  what  I  could  do  or  where  to  begin. 
I  was  restless  and  wanted  work  that  was  of  some 
account. ' ' 

Then  her  opportunity  came — such  a  tiny  one, 
apparently,  that  one  could  hardly  have  blamed 
her,  had  she  refused  it.  But  she  had  made  it 
the  rule  of  her  life  to  do  what  she  could  with 
whatever  came  to  her  hand.  That  was  one  of  the 
valuable  lessons  she  learned  from  her  mother,  the 
laundress. 

There  was  a  little  benefit  society  in  Richmond- 
one  of  probably  a  dozen  or  two  such.  They  are 
pathetically  popular  among  Negroes,  to  whom 
sickness  is  a  catastrophe  such  as  only  the  poorest 
people  can  fully  comprehend.  This  particular  so 
ciety  was  the  Independent  Order  of  St.  Luke.  It 
collected  small  weekly  dues  from  its  members,  of 
whom  at  that  time  it  had  a  thousand.  If  they 
fell  ill,  it  paid  them  a  certain  sum  weekly.  If  they 


A  Woman  Banker  111 

died,  a  death  benefit  was  paid  which  provided  for 
the  funeral  expenses,  thus  saving  the  family  from 
what  is  often,  among  the  very  poor,  a  crushing 
burden  of  debt. 

Mrs.  Walker  was  offered  the  secretaryship  of 
this  society  at  the  munificent  salary  of  eight  dol 
lars  a  month.  She  was  to  collect  dues,  verify  cases 
of  illness  and  of  death,  keep  the  books,  and  pay 
out  all  sums  due. 

She  accepted  the  opportunity  at  once.  The 
Order  might  be  a  small  one — for  an  Order,  but 
looking  after  a  thousand  members  did  seem  a  job 
to  keep  one  busy,  and  it  certainly  helped  the 
people  it  reached.  As  soon  as  she  had  the 
work  at  her  fingers'  ends,  however,  she  began 
reaching  out.  If  the  Order  helped  a  thousand, 
why  shouldn't  it  help  twenty  thousand — fifty — a 
hundred  thousand?  Why  should  it  confine  itself 
to  giving  help  in  trouble?  Why  couldn't  it  train 
people  to  help  themselves  in  time  of  health  to 
save,  to  invest,  to  win  their  way  to  economic  in 
dependence?  Why  couldn't  it  get  hold  of  the 
children  and  teach  them  thrift,  build  up  self-con 
trol  and  forethought  in  their  careless  little  souls, 
and  start  them  on  the  path  to  success  before  they 
should  form  habits  of  self-indulgence  and  waste? 
Why,  it  could  do  all  that!  And  it  should,  and  it 
would.  So  it  has  done  and  still  does  to-day. 

There  are  now  a  hundred  thousand  members 
of  the  Order  in  twenty-one  states,  seventy-five 


112         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

thousand  of  whom  have  held  their  membership 
long  enough  to  be  entitled  to  benefits  if  they  be 
come  ill  or  die.  Five  dollars  a  week  is  paid  in 
case  of  sickness;  and  from  one  hundred  to  five 
hundred  dollars,  according  to  the  amount  of  dues 
paid,  in  case  of  death.  There  is  over  $70,000  cash 
in  the  emergency  fund — a  fund  that  didn't  exist 
when  Mrs.  Walker  took  charge.  A  hundred  and 
forty  field  workers  are  employed,  and  forty-five 
clerks  are  in  the  home  office.  The  assets  of  the 
Order  amount  to  $360,000.  A  handsome  office 
building  has  been  put  up  at  900-904  St.  James 
Street,  Richmond,  costing  $100,000.  It  provides 
ample  office  space  for  the  work  of  the  Order,  a 
large  auditorium,  a  number  of  rooms  for  club  and 
lodge  meetings,  a  large  supply  department  where 
the  badges,  regalia,  account  books,  and  so  forth, 
of  the  Order  are  manufactured  and  sent  out,  and 
a  complete  printing  establishment  with  two  lino 
type  machines.  Here  the  St.  Luke's  Herald,  an 
other  of  Mrs.  Walker's  enterprises,  is  printed  and 
goes  out  to  its  big  constituency.  It  gives  full  re 
ports  of  the  Order's  business,  stories  of  members, 
both  children  and  adults,  who  are  getting  ahead  | 
financially  or  doing  anything  else  worth  while,  j 
suggestions  for  meetings,  and  sound  teaching  in  : 
regard  to  health,  thrift,  morals,  and  education. 
It  goes  to  city  and  country,  to  educated  and  igno 
rant.  To  scores  of  thousands  of  unprivileged 
Negroes  it  is  giving  inspiration  and  a  horizon. 


A  Woman  Banker  113 

It  was  because  of  all  this  rapidly  extending 
work  that  Mrs.  Walker  felt  the  need  of  a  bank. 
In  1902  she  started  one  and  built  a  home  for  it  a 
few  blocks  away  from  the  headquarters  building. 
In  1920  this  bank  had  nearly  six  thousand  deposi 
tors  and  resources  of  over  half  a  million  dollars. 

This  does  not,  however,  nearly  represent  the 
thrift  work  of  St.  Luke's.  Over  fifteen  thousand 
children  who  are  members,  scattered  through 
many  states,  meet  weekly  with  a  regular  program 
which  includes  Bible  instruction  and  lessons  in 
thrift  and  in  hygiene.  Each  child  is  given  a  card 
board  "rainy-day  bank'7;  as  soon  as  he  has  a 
dollar,  the  leader  encourages  him  to  put  it  in  a 
regular  savings  bank  just  as  is  done  with  adult 
members.  These  savings,  for  the  most  part,  find 
their  way  to  local  white  banks,  the  Richmond  in 
stitution  serving  only  adjacent  territory. 

"When  any  of  our  girls  is  advanced  to  making 
as  much  as  fifty  dollars  a  month,"  said  Mrs. 
Walker,  "we  begin  to  persuade  them  to  buy  a 
home.  As  soon  as  they  save  enough  for  the  first 
payment,  the  bank  will  help  them  out.  There  is 
a  woman  in  the  office  here  who  came  to  us  eighteen 
years  ago.  She  did  odd  jobs  of  cleaning,  and 
we  paid  her  a  dollar  a  week,  which  she  was  glad 
to  get.  But  we  encouraged  her  to  fit  herself  for 
better  things.  She  studied,  took  a  business  course 
at  night-school,  and  has  worked  her  way  up  until 
now  she  is  our  head  bookkeeper,  with  a  salary  of 


114         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month.  She  owns 
a  nice  home,  well  furnished  and  fully  paid  for,  and 
has  money  in  the  bank. 

'  '  Then  there  was  that  one-legged  little  bootblack 
at  Second  and  Clay  streets.  He  joined  our  Order. 
He  had  a  rented  chair  out  on  the  sidewalk  in  the 
weather.  We  helped  him  save,  and  when  he  had 
fifty  dollars,  we  helped  him  rent  a  little  place  with 
three  chairs.  That  was  seven  years  ago.  Now  he 
has  a  place  of  his  own  with  twelve  chairs.  He 
has  bought  a  home  for  his  mother — paid  $1,900  for 
it — and  has  it  furnished  and  free  of  debt.  And 
his  bank  account  never  falls  below  five  hundred 
dollars. 

"Numbers  of  our  children  have  bank  accounts 
of  from  one  hundred  to  four  hundred  dollars. 
They  sell  papers,  cut  grass,  do  chores,  run  er 
rands,  work  in  stores  Saturdays.  We  teach  them 
to  save  with  the  definite  purpose  of  wise  use  of 
the  money.  We  try  to  give  them  a  sense  of  moral 
responsibility  for  its  wise  use.  Of  course  we 
can't  do  that  without  religious  teaching.  We  teach 
them  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Ten  Command 
ments,  the  words  of  Christ,  and  some  of  the 
Psalms.  We  try  to  connect  these  things  with 
every-day  living  and  to  show  them  that  part  of 
their  duty  in  becoming  independent  is  getting 
where  they  can  help  others. 

"We  do  a  good  deal  of  the  same  kind  of  work 
with  the  grown  people.  Our  bank  lends  money 


A  Woman  Banker  115 

for  home-building  at  six  per  cent,  and  we  tide 
the  deserving  ones  over  times  of  trouble.  Six  hun 
dred  and  forty-five  homes  have  been  entirely  paid 
for  through  our  bank's  help." 

All  this  really  does  look  like  work  enough  for 
one  woman,  with  the  travel  it  involves  through 
nearly  half  the  states  of  the  Union,  the  constant 
speaking,  writing,  and  oversight  of  so  many  ac 
tivities. 

Besides  these  business  interests  there  is  Mrs, 
Walker's  church  work,  which  includes  her  local 
church  and  Sunday-school,  and  her  position  as  one 
of  the  trustees  of  the  Woman's  Auxiliary  of  the 
National  Baptist  Convention. 

But  Mrs.  Walker's  social  service  work  is  enough 
for  a  story  in  itself.  Through  her  club  affiliations, 
she  became  deeply  interested  in  Mrs.  Barrett's 
school  at  Peake.  She  organized  in  Richmond  a 
Council  of  Women  with  fourteen  hundred  mem 
bers,  which  did  yeoman  service  in  raising  the  first 
five  thousand  dollars  to  buy  the  farm  at  Peake 
and  has  ever  since  given  liberally  to  all  the  needs 
of  the  school.  Mrs.  Walker  is  one  of  the  colored 
members  of  the  school's  bi-racial  board  of  trust. 
As  a  result  of  this  work  for  Peake  came  the  com 
munity  work  in  Richmond. 

"The  white  women  of  Richmond  began  it,"  she 
said.  "You  know  what  some  of  them  have  done 
here — women  who  stand  at  the  top  socially  and 
who  are  leaders  in  the  church  and  the  club  life  of 


116         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

the  city  and  state.  They  had  done  fine  community 
work  for  white  people,  and  at  length  they  went  to 
our  preachers  and  asked  them  to  invite  their  lead 
ing  women  to  a  conference.  As  a  result,  we  began 
some  forms  of  community  work.  Then  a  white 
philanthropist  who  gave  the  white  women  a  house 
for  a  working  girls'  home  said  that  if  we  colored 
women  would  show  our  interest  in  social  work 
among  our  people  by  raising  a  thousand  dollars 
for  it,  he  would  give  us  the  use  of  a  large  house, 
and  if  we  made  good,  he  would  deed  it  to  a  board 
of  white  and  colored  women  for  colored  work. 

"You  know  we  had  to  make  good  after  that. 
"We  raised  the  thousand  dollars,  and  we  have  kept 
right  on.  The  house  has  been  deeded  now  to  our 
bi-racial  board.  The  white  women  don't  work  for 
us, — they  work  with  us;  and  they've  helped  us  to 
connect  up  with  every  charitable  organization  in 
the  city.  We  have  four  paid  workers,  and  the 
Community  House  is  just  such  a  center  of  in 
fluence  as  we  have  needed  all  these  years." 

Of  Mrs.  Walker's  interest  in  this  work,  her 
grasp  of  the  problems  it  touches,  and  her  will 
ingness  to  spend  and  be  spent  in  it,  the  white 
women  of  the  joint  board  speak  with  high  praise. 
Here,  as  at  Peake,  and  as  a  trustee  of  Miss  Bur 
roughs  '  school  at  Washington,  she  shows  her  con 
cern  especially  for  the  young  womanhood  of  her 
race. 

When  Mrs.  Walker,  who  is  a  literal  believer  in 


A  Woman  Banker  117 

the  injunction  to  keep  one  hand  in  ignorance  of 
what  the  other  does,  told  Miss  Burroughs  that 
she  ought  not  to  have  put  her  name  over  the  build 
ing  she  gave  to  the  National  Training  School,  Miss 
Burroughs  replied, 

"  You  ought  not  to  feel  that  way.  It  helps  those 
girls  there  struggling  for  an  education  to  know 
that  a  successful  woman  like  you  cares  about 
them;  and  the  thought  of  your  success  is  an  in 
spiration  to  them  to  try  harder  to  succeed,  them 
selves.  And  better  than  all,  it's  an  object-lesson 
to  teach  them  that  the  finest  use  of  success  is  to 
serve  others." 

When  asked  about  the  new  laundry  at  the  Wash 
ington  school  and  the  ten  thousand  dollars  Miss 
Burroughs  so  urgently  needed  for  it  soon,  the 
banker  trustee  said  placidly : 

"  She  '11  get  it.  She  always  does.  Nannie  Bur 
roughs  sits  down  there  in  her  office  when  she  wants 
some  money  and  writes  off  a  letter.  Then  she 
mimeographs  it  and  sends  it  to  our  people  all  over 
the  country.  If  you  read  the  first  line,  you  finish 
it ;  and  by  the  time  you  finish  it,  your  money  is  as 
good  as  out  of  your  pocket  into  hers.  There's 
nothing  to  do  but  to  send  her  wrhat  she  asks  for. 
Don't  you  worry  about  that  laundry;  it's  all  right, 
and  she  is  too." 

One  can  but  be  impressed  with  the  way  Mrs. 
Walker,  Mrs.  Barrett,  and  Mrs.  Burroughs  work 
together.  Their  personalities  are  markedly  differ- 


118         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

ent,  their  gifts  differ,  their  calls  to  service  lead 
them  along  divergent  lines.  Yet  each  is  among 
the  most  notable  present-day  women  of  their  race ; 
and  their  friendship  and  cooperation,  their  hearty 
faith  in  one  another's  work,  the  absence  of  petty 
self-consciousness  and  the  rivalry  which  springs 
from  it  are  beautiful  to  see. 

Mrs.  Walker's  two  sons,  grown  men  now,  are 
closely  associated  with  her  in  her  business.  They 
talk  things  over  together;  and  sometimes,  when  a 
decision  in  some  matter  is  hard  to  come  by,  the 
boys  discuss  it  between  themselves.  Such  talks 
are  liable  to  end  with : 

"Has  Mother  been  praying  over  this  thing?" 

"Why,  of  course  she  has." 

"Well,  there's  no  need  to  worry  then.  I  notice 
when  Mother  prays  things  do  straighten  out." 

That  is  really  the  secret  of  all  these  women's 
power.  They  are  all  women  of  unusual  endow 
ment;  but  they  are  also  women  of  faith  and 
prayer. 


IX 
"A  COMPOSER  BY  DIVINE  RIGHT" 

IF  Harry  Burleigh's  musical  gift  had  been  less 
genuine,  it  might  have  been  smothered  out  by 
the  difficulties  of  his  life,  for  this  composer- 
to-be  was  born  and  reared  in  deep  poverty,  with 
the  added  handicap  of  Negro  blood. 

In  that  blood,  however,  there  was  a  strain  of 
courage  and  determination  the  boy  might  well  be 
proud  of.  His  grandfather,  Hamilton  Waters, 
was  an  escaped  slave  who  became  blind  as  a  result 
of  the  hardships  which  he  endured.  Yet  blind,  he 
worked  on  down  to  a  ripe  old  age,  supporting  him 
self  and  aiding  as  far  as  he  could  his  children. 

His  daughter  Elizabeth,  Harry's  mother,  was 
born  near  Lansing,  Mich.,  in  a  wagon  in  which 
her  parents  were  trying  to  make  their  way  into 
Canada.  Perhaps  it  was  her  baby  needs  which 
changed  their  plans  for  they  did  not  cross  the 
border,  but  turned  aside  and  settled  in  Erie,  Penn 
sylvania.  Here  the  blind  father  set  himself  to 
provide  for  his  family. 

Whether  through  independence  or  through 
friendlessness — perhaps  through  both — the  father 
set  up  in  business  for  himself  as  a  presser  of 
men's  clothing.  For  this,  he  needed  only  an  iron 

119 


120         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

and  a  board  and  the  wise  touch  of  fingers  which 
serve  the  blind  for  eyes.  He  brought  character  to 
his  work  and  the  will  to  succeed. 

For  many  years  Harry's  grandfather  was  also 
the  town  crier,  a  position  not  to  be  obtained  now 
adays  when  an  extra  paper  is  printed  at  any  hour 
of  the  day  that  anything  unusual  happens.  In 
those  days,  newspapers,  even  the  biggest  of  them, 
were  printed  but  once  a  day,  and  those  issued  in 
small  places,  but  once  a  week.  If  anybody  died, 
the  town  crier  went  through  the  streets  ringing 
his  bell  and  telling  the  hour  of  the  funeral.  If  an 
important  meeting  was  to  be  held,  he  told  that. 
He  carried  the  news  of  any  outside  happening  that 
was  of  importance  to  the  community  or  to  the 
world  at  large.  But  it  was  hard  work  tramping 
the  streets  in  all  weathers,  and  did  not  bring  in 
very  much  money.  Yet  by  the  time  the  baby  born 
in  the  wagon  had  grown  up  and  finished  high 
school,  her  father  was  able,  by  what  sharp  self- 
denial  one  can  guess,  to  send  her  to  college.  She 
graduated,  only  to  find  that  no  place  was  open  to 
her  to  do  the  work  for  which  she  had  fitted  her 
self.  The  Civil  War  was  not  yet  over,  and  neither 
North  nor  South  had  any  place  for  educated  col 
ored  people.  She  married  later  and  had  five  chil 
dren.  One,  born  in  1866,  was  christened  Henry 
Thacker  and  grew  up  to  become  known  as  Harry 
T.  Burleigh,  singer  and  composer. 

While  he  was  still  a  little  fellow,  Harry's  father 


"A  Composer  by  Divine  Right"     121 

died,  and  his  mother  had  to  go  out  from  her  home 
to  win  bread  for  her  children.  She  took  the  only 
kind  of  work  open  to  her  and  became  janitress  of 
a  public  school.  It  was  poorly  paid  work,  and  it 
was  all  she  and  her  father  could  do  to  keep  the 
wolf  from  the  door.  As  soon  as  they  could,  the 
children  worked  too.  From  the  time  he  was  big 
enough  to  do  anything  at  all,  Harry  sold  papers 
and  ran  errands  and  did  any  odd  chores  he  could 
find  to  do.  Later  he  was  employed  as  a  lamp 
lighter.  Boys  and  girls  of  to-day  are  used  to  the 
flashing  on  of  electricity  in  a  moment,  but  not  so 
very  many  years  ago  oil  lamps  lighted  the  smaller 
cities,  and  even  New  York  and  London  were 
lighted  at  night  by  dim  gaslights.  As  each  lamp 
had  to  be  lighted  by  hand,  quite  an  army  of  boys 
and  men  found  employment  in  lighting  them  at 
dusk  and  turning  them  out  at  dawn. 

During  these  years,  the  boy  was  going  co  public 
school.  Children,  then  as  now,  were  taught  sing 
ing  in  school,  and  here  it  was  discovered  that 
Harry  had  quite  a  wonderful  voice.  His  teachers 
took  great  pains  with  him.  The  gift  which  God 
had  given  him  began  to  grow  and  blossom  until 
a  passionate  love  for  music  filled  his  soul. 

His  mother,  like  her  son,  was  eager  to  do  any 
extra  work  which  would  bring  more  money  to  the 
family  purse;  and  being  both  intelligent  and 
highly  trained,  she  was  in  demand  to  help  in  serv 
ing  at  large  entertainments  in  the  homes  of 


122         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

wealthy  people  of  Erie.  In  this  capacity  she  was 
frequently  employed  by  a  lady  who  brought  to  her 
home  for  the  entertainment  of  her  friends  many 
distinguished  musical  artists.  Harry 's  mother 
would  tell  the  boy  when  a  recital  was  to  be  given, 
and  he  would  stand  outside,  often  in  bitter  cold 
weather,  in  the  hope  of  hearing  some  of  the  mas 
ters  of  the  art  he  so  loved.  One  day  his  mother 
told  him  that  the  great  Joseffy  was  coming.  That 
night  he  stood  outside  the  windows  of  Mrs.  Kus- 
selPs  home,  the  snow  up  to  his  knees,  drinking 
in  the  great  artist's  magic.  He  barely  escaped 
pneumonia  as  a  result  of  this  experience.  To  pre 
vent  the  repetition  of  such  an  illness,  his  mother 
told  her  employer  the  story;  and  after  that,  when 
Mrs.  Kussell  gave  a  concert  for  her  friends, 
Harry  was  inside,  opening  the  door  to  guests. 

Mme.  Carreno  was  one  of  the  artists  whom 
he  heard  in  this  way,  and  with  her  at  Mrs. 
Eussell's  home  was  Mrs.  MacDowell,  the  mother 
of  the  American  composer.  Harry  saw  and  re 
membered  Mrs.  MacDowell,  and  years  afterward 
she  played  an  important  part  in  his  life. 

Through  his  school  singing  the  boy's  voice  be 
came  known  to  a  number  of  people.  From  the 
time  he  was  sixteen,  he  sang  in  church  choirs  in 
Erie  on  Sunday  and  in  the  Jewish  synagogue  on 
Saturday.  He  went  to  school  until  he  was  twenty, 
always  working  hard  outside  of  school  hours  and 
in  vacation.  In  summer,  as  he  grew  older,  he 


"A  Composer  by  Divine  Bight"     123 

worked  on  the  big  lake  steamers.  But  all  the 
money  he  could  earn  was  far  from  enough  for 
what  he  wanted,  and  the  desire  of  his  heart  seemed 
destined  to  remain  a  dream.  He  studied  stenog 
raphy  and  worked  at  that  until  he  was  twenty- six 
years  old. 

Then  he  heard  that  the  National  Conservatory 
of  Music  in  New  York  City  had,  through  its  pres 
ident,  Mrs.  Jeannette  M.  Thurber,  offered  some 
scholarships,  and  he  decided  to  try  for  one  of 
them.  He  came  to  New  York  and  sang  before  a 
committee  of  judges,  Joseffy  himself  being  one. 
There  was  some  question  of  his  winning  a  schol 
arship,  but  when  he  sought  out  the  registrar  of 
the  conservatory,  he  recognized  her  as  Mrs.  Mac- 
Dowell  and  gave  her  a  letter  of  recommendation 
which  Mrs.  Eussell  had  written  for  him.  She 
turned  the  scale  in  his  favor  and  during  his  four 
years  of  study  was  his  unfailing  friend.  She  gave 
him  clerical  work  in  her  office  and  helped  him  in 
every  way  she  could. 

Dvorak,  greatest  of  Bohemian  composers,  was 
the  director  of  the  conservatory,  the  faculty  of 
which  was  composed  of  famous  men.  Dvorak  was 
interested  in  the  eager  student  and  gave  him  much 
of  his  time  outside  of  class  hours.  Burleigh  copied 
many  of  his  orchestral  compositions  for  him.  He 
also  played  and  sang  for  Dvorak  the  old  Negro 
"  spirituals. ' '  These  weird  and  beautiful  melo 
dies  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  great  com- 


124         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Eace 

poser,  who  wove  one  of  them  into  one  of  his 
greatest  compositions,  the  "New  World  Sym 
phony.  ' ' 

Burleigh  studied  hard  during  these  four  years, 
developing  his  splendid  voice  and  learning  har 
mony  and  counterpoint  under  men  who  were  real 
masters.  But  always  there  was  the  struggle  for 
daily  bread.  His  scholarship  covered  only  his  tui 
tion.  Odd  jobs  and  chores  were  still  necessities 
to  supply  food  and  clothes.  His  mother,  firm  in 
her  belief  in  her  boy's  great  gifts,  found  ways  to 
help  him  out,  as  mothers  will.  What  he  could  not 
have,  he  did  without,  and  there  was  no  complaint 
or  self-pity.  The  first  summer  after  he  came  to 
New  York,  he  went  to  Saratoga  and  worked  in  a 
hotel;  but  by  the  next  summer  his  voice  was  be 
coming  known,  and  he  went  again  to  Saratoga  for 
the  vacation  months,  this  time  as  baritone  soloist 
in  an  Episcopal  church.  The  worst  was  now  be 
hind  him.  Since  that  time,  while  he  has  worked 
hard,  he  has  been  doing  work  he  loves  and  is 
fitted  for.  Later  years  have  brought  him  the  re 
wards  of  work  well  done.  His  early  struggles  and 
privations  have  left  not  the  slightest  touch  of 
bitterness  on  his  spirit.  He  went  through  them 
all  and  conquered  them  with  that  best  of  all  cour 
age  which  carries  good  cheer  high,  like  a  guidon. 

In  1894,  when  the  position  of  baritone  soloist 
became  vacant  in  St.  George's  Episcopal  Church 
in  New  York,  one  of  the  largest  churches  in  the 


"A.  Composer  "by  Divine  Right"     125 

city,  Mr.  Burleigh  applied  for  the  position.  He 
was  the  only  Negro  among  the  sixty  applicants, 
but  he  had  the  voice  wanted,  and  Dr.  Kainsford, 
the  rector,  and  the  vestrymen  did  not  think  the 
color  of  his  skin  should  rule  him  out  of  serving 
with  it  in  God's  house.  For  twenty-eight  years 
he  has  remained  a  member  of  this  choir.  For 
twenty-two  years  he  has  sung  also  in  Temple 
Emanu-El,  one  of  the  largest  synagogues  of  the 
city. 

Burleigh 's  voice  became  known  far  and  wide, 
and  work  crowded  in  upon  him.  He  undertook 
the  training  of  choirs  in  a  number  of  churches 
in  New  York  and  its  vicinity,  doing  the  work  with 
such  modest  courtesy  and  yet  with  such  ability 
and  success  that  each  effort  added  to  his  reputa 
tion.  His  voice  was  beautiful,  rich,  full,  and  musi 
cal  to  the  last  vibration,  and  it  had  been  splen 
didly  trained.  He  was  soon  in  demand  at  con 
certs  and  at  private  musicales.  Several  European 
tours  were  arranged  for  him,  and  for  years  his 
annual  vacations  were  spent  abroad,  where  he 
sang  in  England  and  on  the  continent  with  great 
and  increasing  success.  He  sang  for  King  Ed 
ward  VII,  who  greatly  admired  his  voice,  and  for 
many  of  the  other  crowned  heads  of  Europe.  But 
the  real  test  of  his  ability  was  the  power  of  his 
voice  to  move  all  kinds  of  people  in  the  mixed 
audiences  of  great  cities.  Measured  by  that  stand 
ard,  he  sang  greatly. 


126         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

It  is  as  a  singer  that  lie  classifies  himself.  "A 
composer  ?"  he  says,  when  his  musical  works  are 
spoken  of.  "Oh,  no.  Just  a  few  songs  I've  done, 
and  practically  no  orchestration.  My  life  has  been 
spent  as  a  singer — is  spent  that  way  now.  I  can 
not  lay  claim  to  the  name  of  composer." 

But  many  musicians  of  rank  disagree  with  him. 
He  has  composed  the  music  for  about  a  hundred 
songs  and  several  festival  anthems  for  choruses, 
and  he  has  written  the  scores  for  a  volume  of 
Negro  "spirituals"  which  are  not  the  least  of  his 
achievements. 

These  old  Negro  melodies  were  sung,  as  all 
Southern  people  know,  by  groups  of  slaves  and 
were  without  any  instrumental  accompaniment. 
So  sung,  by  hundreds  of  voices,  their  beauty 
fills  the  heart  and  makes  words  difficult.  One 
feels  them,  and  in  them  the  faith  and  aspira 
tion  of  a  race.  They  may  be  heard  in  perfec 
tion  at  Hampton,  Tuskegee,  and  Fisk  Univer 
sity,  and  at  many  of  the  Negro  schools  of  the 
South.  But  except  for  the  occasional  tours  of 
some  small  group  of  Negro  singers  in  the  North, 
until  recently  they  were  seldom  heard  outside  the 
Southern  states.  Yet  some  of  the  world 's  leading 
musicians  and  composers  agree  that  these  melo 
dies  are  America's  most  distinctive  gift  to  the 
music  of  the  world.  For  a  long  time  Southern 
people  thought  lightly  of  this  treasure.  Many  of 
them  regarded  Negro  songs  as  a  joke,  and  laughed 


"A  Composer  by  Divine  Bight"     127 

over  them  until  the  Negroes  themselves  grew  half 
ashamed  of  their  wonderful  melodies  and  tried 
above  everything  to  "sing  like  white  folks." 

But  with  time  came  a  broader  view  of  the  unique 
place  of  Negro  music  in  the  world  of  art.  Among 
white  people,  those  who  laughed  were  silenced  by 
those  whose  hearts  had  always  been  moved  by  the 
weird  and  haunting  melody  of  Negro  songs.  Be 
fore  they  dropped  into  oblivion,  white  and  Negro 
scholars  and  musicians  began  to  collect  them  and 
teach  them  to  the  rising  generation.  Mr.  Bur 
leigh 's  contribution  to  this  movement,  of  such 
value  to  America  and  the  world,  has  been  the  set 
ting  of  thev  old  melodies  to  a  musical  accompani 
ment  so  that  they  may  be  sung  anywhere,  by  any 
singer,  just  as  other  songs  are  sung. 

It  was,  owing  to  the  very  nature  of  the  music, 
a  most  difficult  thing  to  do,  and  perhaps  no  man 
not  a  Negro,  however  gifted,  would  have  dared  to 
attempt  it.  But  Mr.  Burleigh  has  done  it  su 
premely  well.  "Each  composition, "  says  a  musi 
cal  authority,  "is  a  classic  in  itself. "  Their  suc 
cess  is  attested  by  the  famous  singers  who  to-day 
use  Burleigh 's  settings  of  the  "spirituals." 
Perhaps  the  most  famous  of  this  well-known 
group  of  songs  is  "Deep  River";  but  it  is  hard  to 
select  where  all  are  of  merit. 

One  of  Burleigh 's  finest  pieces  of  work,  accord 
ing  to  musical  critics,  is  "Ethiopia  Saluting  the 
Colors,"  a  setting  of  Walt  Whitman's  poem.  An- 


128         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

other  noted  song  is  his  setting  of  Eupert  Brooke's 
sonnet,  "The  Soldier."  "Jean"  has  been  sung 
by  thousands  of  people  here  and  abroad,  and  also 
"The  Young  Warrior,"  a  wonderful  setting  of 
the  war  song  of  a  Negro  poet,  James  Weldon 
Johnson.  The  words  themselves  are  noble: 

Mother,  shed  no  mournful  tears, 

But  gird  me  on  my  sword ; 
And  give  no  utterance  to  thy  fears, 

But  bless  me  with  thy  word. 

Now  let  thine  eyes  my  way  pursue 

Where'er  my  footsteps  fare; 
And  when  they  lead  beyond  thy  view 

Send  after  me  a  prayer. 

Still,  pray  not  to  defend  from  harm, 

Nor  danger  to  dispel; 
But  rather,  that  with  steadfast  arm 

I  fight  the  battle  well. 

Pray  that  I  keep,  through  all  the  days, 
My  heart  and  purpose  strong, 

My  sword  unsullied,  and  always 
Unsheathed  against  the  wrong. 

The  lines  are  drawn,  the  fight  is  on, 

A  cause  is  to  be  won ; 
Mother,  look  not  so  white  and  wan : 

Give  Godspeed  to  thy  son. 

The  music  stirs  the  blood.  There  is  in  it  a 
very  passion  of  patriotic  fervor  and  sacrifice. 
That  it  was  sung  all  over  America  and  France 
by  our  Negro  troops  is  no  wonder.  It  swept  Italy 
like  a  flame ;  the  soldiers  of  the  Italian  army  sang 


Photo  by  Hishkitij  New  York 

HARRY  T.  BURLEIGH 


"A  Composer  ~by  Divine  Right"     129 

it  on  the  battlefield,  and  their  people  sang  it  at 
home.  Zandonai,  a  notable  Italian  composer, 
wrote  an  orchestration  for  it,  that  the  song  might 
pour  from  thousands  of  throats  with  the  full 
power  of  the  instruments  behind  it.  One  musical 
critic  has  said  that  it  is  "one  of  the  few  really 
admirable  songs  America  has  produced  in  recent 
years." 

One  of  Mr.  Burleigh 's  greatest  successes  has 
been  his  music  for  a  song  by  Walter  Brown, 
" Little  Mother  of  Mine."  John  McCormack  sang 
this  with  tremendous  effect  in  the  New  York  Hip 
podrome  before  "the  largest  audience  ever  seen 
in  America's  largest  playhouse."  A  thousand 
people  sat  on  the  stage  behind  the  singer  for  want 
of  room  in  the  house.  At  the  close  of  the  song 
the  audience  rose  in  an  ovation,  and  McCormack 
insisted  that  Burleigh,  who  sat  near  him,  should 
go  forward  with  him  to  acknowledge  the  applause. 

"You  went,  of  course,"  he  was  asked. 

He  shook  his  head.  "I  couldn't.  I  couldn't. 
But  he  sang  it  wonderfully." 

The  songs  are  not  all.  There  are  "Southland 
Sketches,"  four  compositions  for  the  violin  which 
have  won  high  praise ;  and  orchestrations  for  some 
of  the  songs  arranged  as  choruses.  The  "Five 
Songs  of  Laurence  Hope"  are  counted  among  his 
best  work. 

Harry  Burleigh  is  still  a  singer  with  a  voice 
which  is  a  joy  to  hear.  But  he  is  a  composer,  too; 


130         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

those  who  know  his  work  agree  with  Kramer,  who 
calls  him  "a  composer  by  divine  right. "  Con 
cerning  this,  his  publisher  has  also  a  word  to  say. 

"He  has  done  remarkable  things, "  said  he; 
"things  which  would  have  been  remarkable  in 
a  man  who  began  with  everything  in  his  favor  and 
had  no  such  fight  to  make  as  Burleigh  had.  But 
he  has  so  much  more  in  him.  If  only  some  one 
had  had  the  vision,  in  Burleigh 's  youth,  to  set  him 
free  from  that  long  struggle  for  mere  existence 
and  make  it  possible  for  him  to  spend  his  strength 
in  the  work  he  was  made  for,  he  would  rank  with 
MacDowell  himself.  One  must  have  time  for  sym 
phonies,  months  and  years ;  and  they  bring  in  no 
ready  money.  America,  and  the  whole  world  of 
art,  is  the  poorer  because  Burleigh  had  to  fight  for 
his  daily  bread  so  long." 

But  Burleigh  himself  only  smiles  at  this.  "I 
had  my  living  to  make,"  he  says.  "I  am  like 
other  people,  I  must  do  the  best  I  can  with  what 
I  have  and  not  cry  for  what  I  can't  get." 

He  is  the  musical  editor  for  the  American 
branch  of  the  Eicordi  house.  No  piece  of  music 
is  submitted  to  them  which  does  not  pass  through 
his  hands  and  rest  its  fate  on  his  judgment.  But 
with  all  his  success  as  a  singer,  composer,  and 
judge  of  music,  Harry  Burleigh  is  as  modest,  as 
simple,  as  unspoiled  as  the  boy  who  stood  knee- 
deep  in  snow  to  catch  a  strain  of  the  music  he  so 
loved. 


A  LIGHT  IN  A  DARK  PLACE 

MARTHA  DRUMMER  was  born  in  a  little 
Georgia  town.  Her  people  were  very 
poor,  and  her  father's  death  left  the  fam 
ily  an  added  burden  of  poverty.  She  had  two 
sisters,  and  while  they  were  still  small,  their 
mother  moved  to  Griffin,  a  larger  town,  where 
there  was  a  better  school.  For  poor  and  igno 
rant  though  she  was,  this  colored  mother  planned 
the  best  her  love  could  compass  for  her  girls,  love 
and  the  spirit  of  sacrifice  being  God's  common 
gifts  to  the  mothers  of  all  the  world.  She  worked 
and  pinched  to  keep  her  girls  in  the  public  school, 
and  of  course  they  helped  by  working  in  vacation, 
even  when  they  were  little. 

Martha  finished  the  sixth  grade — no  small 
achievement  under  the  circumstances.  Then,  she 
" hired  out,"  as  is  said  in  the  South,  to  white 
folks,  and  began  at  the  age  of  twelve  or  thirteen 
to  support  herself. 

But  two  things  had  happened  to  her:  meager 
though  it  was,  her  schooling  had  awakened  a 
bright  mind,  and  she  was  athirst  for  an  education ; 
and  her  soul  had  wakened  too,  so  that  she  wanted 
the  education  as  a  means  of  better  service  to  God 

131 


132         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

and  her  fellows.  It  seemed  like  wanting  the  rain 
bow,  but  she  wanted  it,  and  the  Lord  knew  how 
great  her  desire  was. 

There  were  schools  in  the  South  for  just  such 
girls  as  Martha.  The  Southern  white  people 
hardly  realize  yet  what  the  schools  for  Negroes 
opened  in  the  South  by  the  Northern  churches 
after  the  war  have  done  for  the  development  both 
of  the  Negroes  and  the  South.  There  were  bitter 
years  in  which  both  races  lost  their  old  trust  in  one 
another ;  and  a  time  of  such  poverty  that  adequate 
schools  for  white  children  were  impossible,  and 
little  was  done  for  Negroes.  If  the  Northern 
Christians  had  not  stood  in  the  breach,  bringing 
opportunity  to  gifted  Negroes  and  a  chance  to 
many  more  of  fair  ability,  the  race  would  have 
been  leaderless  during  most  critical  times,  a  prey 
to  every  evil  influence.  What  would  be  the  rela 
tions  of  the  races  to-day  without  the  lives  and 
influence  of  men  like  Booker  Washington,  Dr. 
Moton,  Isaac  Fisher,  George  Haynes,  Bishop 
Clinton,  John  Hope,  Bishop  Jones,  Archdeacon 
Russell,  John  Gandy,  and  scores  and  scores  more 
— ministers,  teachers,  doctors,  business  men,  who 
have  taught  their  people  higher  ways  of  living  for 
mind  and  body  and  soul! 

The  South  is  spending  thousands  of  dollars  now 
where  it  scarcely  spent  hundreds  in  the  lean  years 
for  Negro  education.  But  for  many  years  there 
were  no  Negro  teachers  worthy  the  name  except 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  133 

those  trained  by  the  Northern  churches.  They 
sent  out  such  women  as  Miss  Lucy  Laney,  Miss 
Georgia  Washington,  Mrs.  Julia  Harris,  Mrs, 
Charlotte  Brown,  Mrs.  Washington — one  is  per 
plexed  about  naming  any  of  so  great  a  company 
because  of  the  many  who  must  be  omitted.  All 
over  the  South  these  women  have  built  character 
and  industry  and  Christian  service,  a  blessing  to 
white  and  black  alike. 

There  was  a  school,  therefore,  for  Martha 
Drummer.  Dr.  Thirkield,  who  is  now  Bishop 
Thirkield,  was  at  that  time  in  charge  of  the  theo 
logical  department  of  Clark  University.  At  one 
time  when  he  visited  Griffin  to  preach  to  the  Ne 
groes,  Martha's  pastor  told  him  about  her.  Dr. 
Thirkield  went  to  see  her  and  was  impressed,  as 
the  pastor  had  been,  by  her  unusual  promise. 
Maybe  the  twinkle  in  her  eyes  helped,  for,  as  good 
judges  of  human  nature  know,  a  keen  sense  of 
kindly  fun  and  humor  is  a  pretty  good  indication 
of  brains  and  force,  and  Martha's  eyes  have  twin 
kled  all  her  life.  Dr.  Thirkield  secured  a  tuition 
scholarship  for  her,  and  she  went  to  Atlanta  to 
enter  the  preparatory  school  at  Clark. 

The  first  year,  she  worked  for  a  family  who 
gave  her  time  during  school  hours  to  attend  her 
classes ;  but  she  needed  more  time  for  study.  She 
so  clearly  showed  her  worth  that  the  second  year 
a  way  was  made  for  her  to  live  at  the  girls'  dor 
mitory.  She  worked  on  Saturdays  and  taught 


134         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

school  in  vacation.  By  hard  economy,  she  event 
ually  graduated  from  Clark. 

One  of  her  teachers  relates  that  when  she  first 
entered  the  dormitory,  she  would  cause  outbreaks 
of  laughter  during  study  hour  by  her  comical 
" asides"  on  the  lessons.  But  her  teacher  soon, 
found  that  what  she  said  was  not  only  funny, 
but  that  it  set  the  girls  to  thinking,  so  that  she 
always  had  better  lessons  from  them  the  days 
after  Martha  had  bubbled  over. 

Her  sense  of  humor  sometimes  helped  her 
to  shrewd  decisions  in  a  tight  place.  One  sum 
mer  she  had  in  her  vacation  school  seven  or  eight 
children  from  one  family.  In  those  days  the 
county  schools  had  very  short  terms,  which  the 
colored  parents  lengthened  by  paying  the  teacher 
themselves  by  the  week  or  month  after  the  public 
term  was  over.  When  Martha  called  on  the 
mother  of  this  numerous  brood  for  her  first  pay 
ment,  she  was  told  that  in  that  family  school  bills 
were  always  paid  in  a  lump  at  the  end  of  the 
term,  and  knowing  the  woman  to  be  prosperous, 
well  able  to  pay  the  money  all  at  once,  she 
waited.  But  at  the  end  of  the  term  she  was  calmly 
told  that  her  patron  had  no  money  at  all  and  could 
not  pay  a  cent.  Martha  knew  this  was  not  true. 
She  also  knew  that  she  had  earned  her  money,  and 
that  she  had  to  have  it.  So  she  borrowed  a  horse 
and  wagon  and  a  rope  and  drove  out  to  the 
woman's  home.  Her  eyes  must  have  danced  on 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  135 

the  way,  though  she  looked  as  solemn  as  possible 
when  she  arrived.  The  woman  was  more  than 
solemn,  she  "was  plumb  worried  to  death,"  she 
said,  "but  she  didn't  have  nary  a  cent  to  pay — 
not  one." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Martha  kindly,  "some  of 
your  farm  products  will  do.  I  would  just  as  soon 
have  a  couple  of  pigs.  I'm  sure  I  can  sell  them, 
and  don't  you  worry  another  minute." 

The  pigs  were  all  over  the  yard,  so  the  woman 
could  not  possibly  say  she  didn't  have  "nary 
a  pig."  Martha  caught  two,  got  them  into  the 
wagon  and  tied  them,  the  woman  looking  on,  petri 
fied.  Martha  bade  her  a  cheerful  good-evening 
and  started  off;  but  before  she  got  to  the  big 
road,  the  woman  came  to  life.  She  couldn't  lose 
all  that  bacon  and  sausage,  to  say  nothing  of  hams 
and  "chitlin's"!  She  found  a  purse  or  an  old 
stocking  in  no  time  and  ran  after  the  teacher  hot 
foot.  They  had  a  pleasant  chat  down  by  the  gate. 
The  pigs  went  home  with  their  mistress,  while 
Martha  went  home,  her  eyes  dancing  more  than 
ever,  with  her  hard-earned  money  in  her  pocket. 

She  wanted  to  be  a  foreign  missionary.  There 
was  need  at  home,  she  knew,  but  out  in  Africa 
were  millions  who  had  never  heard  of  a  God 
of  love;  millions  who  knew  no  comfort  of  body 
or  mind  or  soul.  Whoever  helped  them  must 
give  up  home  and  friends  and  comfort.  When  one 
really  sees  the  need,  things  which  to  most  people 


136         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

seem  essential  do  not  matter;  and  Martha  Drum- 
mer  saw. 

She  took  the  two  years'  deaconess  course  at 
the  Methodist  women's  training  school  in  Boston, 
and  then  the  three  years'  course  for  a  nurse.  In 
February,  1906,  she  was  ready  to  go.  She  was 
sent  to  Quessua,  Angola,  West  Africa,  where 
there  was  only  one  colored  missionary  in  the  prov 
ince — Miss  Susan  Collins,  at  the  Quessua  orphan 
age  and  to  her  village  and  school  Miss  Drummer 
was  assigned. 

Being  a  missionary  in  Africa  is  a  pretty  sharp 
test  of  one's  desire  to  serve,  and  Quessua  is  no 
exception  to  this  rule.  It  is  in  Angola,  down  on 
the  West  Coast,  in  the  temperate  zone,  3,500  feet 
above  sea-level.  If  the  swamps  could  be  drained, 
it  would  be  a  pleasant  country.  The  village  takes 
its  name  from  a  little  stream  which  springs  from 
the  foot  of  Mount  Bango  near  by.  Several  native 
villages  are  close  around,  but  the  nearest  post- 
office  and  telegraph  and  railroad  stations  are  at 
Melange,  six  miles  away.  When  Miss  Drummer 
first  went  out,  the  railroad  stopped  eighty-five 
miles  away,  and  that  distance  had  to  be  traveled 
in  a  hammock  slung  on  poles  carried  by  native 
bearers.  This  seemed  to  Miss  Drummer  a  selfish 
way  of  traveling,  so  she  tried  to  walk;  but  she 
found  it  a  dangerous  thing  for  one  unaccustomed 
to  the  climate  to  attempt.  She  couldn't  afford  to 
waste  the  years  and  the  money  her  preparation 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  137 

had  cost  by  killing  herself  with  dengue  fever  as 
soon  as  she  reached  Africa.  The  porters,  trained 
for  generations  in  such  work,  and  quite  at  home 
in  the  African  sun,  had  no  trouble  at  all  in  carry 
ing  her. 

At  length  she  was  set  down  in  the  Quessua  or 
phanage  of  the  Methodist  Women's  Foreign  Mis 
sion  Society.  It  was  a  low,  small,  crowded  build 
ing,  with  none  of  the  conveniences  or  comforts  to 
which  she  had  grown  accustomed  in  her  years  of 
training;  but  neither  she  nor  Miss  Collins,  her 
fellow-worker,  ever  mentioned  these  facts.  They 
were  working  among  savage  folk,  all  of  whom  lived 
in  poverty  and  need.  Even  to-day  many  of  the 
villagers  have  no  clothing  except  the  skins  of  wild 
animals;  and  many  more  wear  loin  cloths  or  a 
few  yards  of  cheap  cotton  wound  about  their 
bodies.  Those  who  manage  to  get  something  more 
like  our  clothes  are  without  any  of  the  comforts 
of  life,  as  we  think  of  comforts.  Miss  Collins  and 
Miss  Drummer  hated  to  have  so  much  more  than 
the  poor  people  they  had  come  there  to  help,  so 
they  never  told  of  the  discomforts.  It  was  not 
until  one  of  the  white  women  sent  out  by  the 
Board  went  there  and  wrote  back  about  what  these 
colored  women  were  putting  up  with  that  any  one 
at  home  knew.  A  comfortable  two-story  home, 
with  plenty  of  room,  was  then  built  for  them,  and 
they  could  not  help  enjoying  it. 

But  though  their  home  is  at  the  foot  of  the 


138         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

mountain  in  this  high  country  and  commands  a 
beautiful  view,  it  is  neither  as  healthful  nor  as 
comfortable  as  it  would  be  in  a  different  climate. 
The  heavy  African  rains  pour  down  for  months 
until  the  land  is  saturated  with  water,  and  every 
valley  and  little  hollow  become  a  marsh.  Here 
insect  pests  breed  by  millions,  carrying  not  only 
grave  discomfort,  but  disease  and  even  death.  So 
heavy  are  the  rains  that  it  takes  nearly  the  whole 
of  the  dry  season  for  the  swamps  to  disappear. 
Then  the  rains  come  again,  and  the  marshes  begin 
once  more  to  form. 

Not  long  after  Miss  Drummer  reached  Quessua 
an  epidemic  of  fever  broke  out.  She  herself 
nursed  thirty-eight  cases,  bringing  thirty-seven 
back  to  health.  The  suffering  from  disease,  so 
much  of  it  preventable,  and  from  the  ignorance 
which  makes  sickness  even  more  dangerous,  she 
still  finds  among  the  hardest  things  to  bear.  In 
her  trips  through  the  heathen  villages,  she  takes 
as  many  simple  remedies  as  she  can,  never  know 
ing  what  she  may  have  to  face.  On  a  recent  trip 
she  heard  a  baby  screaming  with  pain.  The  child 
was  ill,  and  the  mother  had  sent  for  the  witch 
doctor,  the  only  doctor  she  had  ever  known  about. 
He  had  cut  the  baby's  head  in  ugly  gashes  and 
given  the  mother  a  mixture  of  green  leaves  boiled 
together  to  rub  into  the  wounds.  Poor  ignorant 
soul!  She  sat  there  torturing  her  baby  in  the 
belief  that  she  was  doing  the  only  thing  that  could 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  139 

t 

save  its  life.  Another  baby  had  a  great  boil  on 
its  neck  which  would  not  come  to  a  head  until 
Miss  Drummer's  magic  salve  brought  relief.  The 
mother  was  sure  the  owner  of  the  magic  stuff 
was  a  god.  The  witch-doctors  were  the  most  won 
derful  of  human  beings,  she  knew;  and  no  witch 
doctor  could  do  a  thing  like  that;  it  must  be  the 
work  of  a  god ! 

After  five  years  in  Africa  Miss  Drummer  wrote 
to  a  friend,  "I  hardly  think  you  could  enjoy  the 
hardships  here.  I  fit  in  like  a  cup  in  a  saucer; 
but  you  see  I've  always  had  things  hard.  ...  I'm 
not  reaping  where  another  has  sown,  so  I'm  get 
ting  a  taste  of  real  heathenism.  They  think  it 
folly  to  teach  a  woman  anything  but  farm  work. 
They  think  we  ought  to  give  them  presents  for 
letting  us  feed  and  teach  a  girl.  .  .  .  You  have  no 
conception  of  their  heathenish  customs.  ...  I  am 
glad  from  my  soul  that  I  came.  Last  Sunday  I 
spoke  to  over  two  hundred  people  in  one  yard. 
We  have  all  our  services  at  the  mission  station  in 
the  morning,  so  the  afternoon  can  be  used  for 
Tillage  work.  All  my  services  are  outdoors. 

"My  regular  work  is  in  the  orphanage  with 
forty  girls.  This  is  our  family.  My  co-worker 
has  spent  twenty-one  years  in  Africa.  She  is  a 
fine  house-mother.  We  have  six  children  under 
six  years  and  two  just  on  their  legs  for  the  first 
time  and  into  all  sorts  of  mischief.  One  has  just 
poured  a  cup  of  sand  in  the  middle  of  my  clean 


140         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

floor.  But  they  are  nice,  if  they  are  naughty  some 
times.  I  have  learned  that  everything  human  is 
human. 

"I  put  a  great  part  of  my  earnings  in  my  work. 
I  started  to  ask  the  Lord  for  twenty-five  desks  for 
the  school;  but  I  got  ashamed  and  got  up  to  an 
swer  the  prayer  myself.  I  am  negotiating  now. 
If  my  fifty  dollars  won't  cover  buying  and  freight, 
I  will  ask  the  Lord  to  raise  what  is  lacking.  Pray 
for  me.  I  am  engaged  in  the  best  of  services,  for 
the  best  of  masters,  and  on  the  best  of  terms." 

Miss  Drummer  has  served  not  only  her  own 
people,  but  any  who  were  in  need.  When  she  came 
home  in  1911  she  said  she  had  nursed  people  of 
twelve  nationalities.  A  Portuguese  officer,  out  in 
the  wilds,  brought  his  young  wife  to  this  mission 
ary  nurse  *s  home  as  the  only  place  where  medical 
care  could  be  secured  for  her.  When  the  wife  went 
back  home,  Miss  Drummer  went  with  her  to  care 
for  her  and  the  baby  through  the  hard  journey. 
The  officer  wanted  her  to  stay  with  them  a  while 
and  rest;  but  her  work  called  her.  After  paying 
his  wife's  expenses,  he  gave  Miss  Drummer  fifty 
dollars  personally  as  an  expression  of  his  grati 
tude.  At  that  time  she  had  some  more  prayers  on 
hand  to  answer  herself,  so  she  spent  ten  dollars 
for  a  silver  watch  and  gave  the  rest  of  the  money 
to  the  orphanage. 

In  1918  Miss  Drummer  came  home  on  furlough 
again  and  spoke  at  many  white  missionary  gath- 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  141 

erings  with  telling  effect.  She  did  not  like  their 
prayers,  she  said,  so  one  day  she  told  them  about 
it.  She  said  they  all  prayed  for  China  and  Japan 
and  India  and  the  islands  of  the  sea  and  Mexico 
and  South  America,  "and  all  the  rest.'*  It  was 
that  '  <  all  the  rest  > '  she  was  tired  of.  '  <  There  isn  »t 
any  'all  the  rest'  but  Africa,"  she  said.  "Call  it 
by  its  name.  Say  *  Africa'  when  you  pray,  and 
then  maybe  you  will  think  to  pray  for  it  oftener." 

In  Boston  she  made  so  strong  an  appeal  for 
her  medical  work  that  a  thousand  dollars  was 
given  her  from  the  floor  before  she  could  sit  down. 
She  made  them  see  her  people,  the  suffering  old 
folk,  the  poor,  hopeless  mothers,  the  little  chil 
dren,  as  ready  to  learn  kindness  and  happiness 
and  to  grow  strong  and  healthy  as  any  of  the 
children  of  the  world. 

When  she  returned  to  Africa,  she  bought  a 
donkey  for  near-by  trips,  as  riding  would  be 
cheaper  than  going  in  a  hammock.  He  was  such 
a  solemn  donkey  that  she  named  him  Jeremiah. 
He  was  very  gentle  and  went  beautifully  on  dry 
land,  but  he  refused  entirely  to  cross  a  stream 
or  to  step  in  a  muddy  place.  He  was  gentle,  but 
inflexible.  So  she  had  to  sell  him,  saying  that 
"a  stubborn  donkey  without  rubbers"  was  not 
much  help  in  mission  work  in  such  a  new  country. 

Trips  make  up  a  large  part  of  the  work  of  a 
missionary  in  Africa.  The  longer  ones  must  be 
taken  in  the  dry  season  and  often  occupy  several 


142         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

weeks.  "Where  it  is  possible,  two  missionaries  go 
together,  with  five  or  six  bearers  apiece  for  their 
hammocks  and  baggage.  Much  of  their  food  must 
be  carried  in  a  box  as  nearly  insect-proof  as  pos 
sible.  This  box  is  all  the  furniture,  except  the 
camp-beds,  they  have  with  them.  After  they  take 
out  their  food  and  granite  plates,  they  sit  on  the 
chest  while  they  eat.  If  they  forget  the  salt  or 
anything  else,  they  must  both  stand  up  while  they 
hunt  it  out.  Men,  women,  and  children  crowd 
about  them  while  they  eat,  touching  them,  feeling 
their  clothes,  peering  at  them,  and  talking  about 
their  looks,  their  food,  and  the  way  they  eat  it, 
until  meal-time  is  an  ordeal  gladly  ended. 

At  first  Miss  Drummer  felt  she  must  share  her 
food  with  all  these  curious  and  sometimes  hungry 
folk,  but  she  found  she  could  not  possibly  carry 
enough  for  the  throngs  of  even  a  single  village; 
she  had  to  keep  the  contents  of  her  box  for  her 
self  or  give  up  all  thought  of  missionary  journeys. 
And  after  all,  she  found  this  enforced  eating  in 
public  a  very  good  way  of  advertising  her  pres 
ence  and  attracting  a  crowd  to  hear  the  story  she 
had  come  so  far  to  tell. 

The  instant  the  plates  are  back  in  the  box,  and 
before  the  people  begin  to  scatter,  Miss  Drummer 
gets  them  to  sit  down  on  the  grass  and  begins  to 
sing  a  hymn,  teaching  it  to  them  line  by  line. 
" Jesus  loves  me"  is  usually  the  one  she  begins 
with,  and  they  are  quick  to  learn  it.  Then  she 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  143 

reads  and  explains  a  few  verses  from  the  Bible 
and  closes  with  a  short  prayer. 

One  evening  she  and  her  helper  came  to  a  village 
called  Ngala.  The  chief  gave  them  the  biggest 
half  of  his  two-room  hut  to  sleep  in.  He  and  his 
family  took  the  smaller  room,  and  the  missionaries 
put  their  camp-beds  in  one  end  of  the  other,  cur 
taining  off  with  the  hammocks  a  place  at  the  other 
end  for  their  ten  bearers  to  sleep  on  mats.  The 
chief's  goats  and  chickens  slept  in  the  room  also, 
and  plenty  of  rats — no,  the  rats  didn't  sleep  1 
That  was  their  time  for  exercise.  The  mission 
aries  got  some  eggs  and  sweet  potatoes  in  the 
village  and  cooked  their  supper  on  a  little  out 
door  fire.  They  had  a  prayer-meeting  in  the  hut. 
Miss  Drummer  and  her  helper  sat  on  the  bed,  one 
holding  the  candle,  the  other  reading  the  Bible 
and  talking.  The  room  was  packed  with  young 
and  old,  all  straining  to  catch  a  word.  Nor  would 
they  go  away  when  the  meeting  was  over  until 
the  candle  was  put  out  and  there  was  no  more 
chance  to  stare  at  the  strangers. 

Next  morning  nearly  two  hundred  of  the  villag 
ers  went  a  couple  of  miles  with  them  on  their  way, 
begging,  as  they  so  often  do,  for  some  one  to  come 
and  stay  with  them  and  teach  them  "the  new 
way."  Miss  Drummer  finds  that  everywhere  she 
goes,  the  songs  that  they  like  best  are  those  that 
tell  of  the  great  Friend,  and  of  the  love  of  God. 
They  need  a  Friend  so  much ! 


144         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

One  night  she  came  to  a  village  where  the  only 
shelter  to  be  had  was  a  hut  with  only  two-and-a- 
half  sides  to  it.  The  bearers  stretched  the  ham 
mocks  around  the  open  part  to  keep  out  wild 
animals.  Just  as  they  were  dropping  off  to  sleep 
after  the  meeting,  they  heard  terrible  noises — a 
hyena  attacking  a  cow.  The  government  does  not 
allow  the  natives  to  have  firearms,  so  the  whole 
village  got  out  of  bed  to  make  noise  enough 
to  scare  the  hyena  away.  They  screamed  and 
ran  about  with  fishing-spears  and  with  feathers 
and  horns  stuck  on  their  heads.  They  were  afraid 
the  visitors  had  made  the  hyena  so  bold,  for  while 
there  are  many  all  about,  they  do  not  often  come 
right  into  the  village  as  this  one  did  and  kill  a 
hog  and  attack  a  cow.  Miss  Drummer  was  afraid 
the  people  would  not  come  to  her  meeting  in  the 
morning,  but  they  did,  and  afterward  they  went 
along  the  road  with  her  for  quite  a  distance. 

One  great  trouble  on  these  journeys  is  the  dif 
ficulty  of  finding  water.  They  must  get  down  by 
a  wayside  stream  to  do  their  washing,  for  they 
can  hardly  carry  enough  clothes  to  last  without 
laundering  on  these  long  trips.  Sometimes  as 
they  scrub  things  in  the  stream,  they  hear  a  pan 
ther  or  a  hyena  howling  near  by  and  decide  it  is 
best  to  move  on.  On  reaching  the  villages,  they 
may  find  the  nearest  water  is  a  mile  or  two  away, 
and  when  they  go  to  it,  it  may  be  covered  with 
green  scum.  Thirsty  as  they  are,  they  cannot 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  145 

drink  it,  but  they  boil  it  and  make  tea  or  cocoa 
and  drink  that. 

The  women  in  these  villages  work  very  hard. 
They  do  all  the  work  in  the  fields,  from  planting 
to  harvesting,  as  well  as  all  the  work  in  the  homes. 
One  heavy  task  is  the  making  of  flour.  For  this 
they  dig  and  dry  the  root  of  the  manioca,  a  plant 
which  grows  in  great  abundance,  and  pound  it 
fine.  No  wonder  they  do  not  have  time  to  think 
about  the  way  they  look.  There  are  mats  to  be 
woven  for  the  houses,  baskets  to  be  made  for 
bringing  in  the  crops,  skins  to  dress,  and  so  on. 
Usually  the  men  fight  and  hunt,  but  occasionally 
they  work.  Once  Miss  Drummer  found  an  old 
chief  crippled  with  leprosy  setting  an  example  of 
industry  to  his  people  by  making  rope.  But  per 
haps  if  he  had  not  been  crippled,  he  too  would 
have  been  hunting  or  fighting. 

Some  things  we  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  on, 
these  people  make  very  short  work  of.  For  in 
stance,  think  how  mothers  in  this  country  comb 
and  brush  their  own  and  their  children's  hair 
every  day.  An  African  woman  does  the  family's 
hair  to  last  for  months  or  even  years.  She  pow 
ders  up  a  red  stone,  mixes  it  with  oil,  and  rubs  it  in 
until  the  hair  is  all  dyed  red.  Then  she  does  it  up 
in  funny  little  tight  braids  all  over  the  head,  and 
that  child's  hair  is  off  her  mind  for  good.  Our 
notions  about  hair  seem  very  peculiar  to  them. 
Once  a  white  missionary  went  on  a  trip  with  Miss 


146         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

Drummer.  They  crowded  into  the  room,  as  usual, 
and  they  thought  the  missionary's  hair  the  very 
queerest  thing  their  eyes  had  ever  beheld.  It 
was  so  straight  and  funny,  with  such  a  queer,  big 
knot.  They  said  she  looked  like  a  "hoje,"  or 
lion,  with  a  big  mane.  So  you  see  our  being  ac 
customed  or  unaccustomed  to  things  has  a  great 
deal  to  do  with  our  thinking  them  ugly  or  pretty. 

One  day  when  Miss  Drummer  was  nearing  a  vil 
lage  she  met  the  chief  and  some  of  his  people 
going  hunting.  They  turned  back  and  went  to 
the  village  with  her,  saying  to  each  other  they 
didn't  dare  not  to,  for  the  gods  had  come  and 
would  be  angry  with  them  if  they  didn't  listen  to 
them.  The  chief  said  he  would  call  his  people 
in  his  other  villages.  This  he  did  by  means  of 
a  telephone  of  real  African  make.  They  brought 
out  a  "drum,"  which  was  a  hollow  log  with  holes 
all  down  the  sides,  and  they  beat  it  with  little 
wooden  mallets.  The  sound  carries  for  miles, 
and  it  means,  "Come  quick.  It's  the  chief's 
orders. ' '  It  would  be  a  very  bold  man  who  would 
disobey  a  summons  like  that.  They  can  send 
other  messages,  too,  for  they  have  a  code  of  long 
and  short  taps  that  can  be  made  into  all  sorts  of 
sentences. 

In  one  of  the  many  villages  where  the  people 
begged  for  teachers  they  said,  when  Miss  Drum 
mer  told  them  there  was  no  one  to  send,  "Oh, 
surely  you  can  find  one  person  to  send!  And 


A  Light  in  a  Dark  Place  147 

if  you  will,  we  will  build  a  hut  for  her.  Send  us 
just  one."  And  think  of  all  the  people  here  in 
America  who  are  not  doing  anything  to  really 
help  other  people,  and  who  could  so  easily  go ! 

The  people  in  Africa  are  ready  to  learn.  On 
her  way  back  from  one  of  these  long  trips  Miss 
Drummer  met  some  men  from  a  village  she  had 
been  to  a  couple  of  weeks  before.  They  were  out 
hunting.  They  told  her  they  had  been  keeping 
Sunday  since  she  had  been  there.  They  wanted 
a  teacher,  too.  Some  miles  further  down  the  road 
the  missionaries  heard  some  little  children  sing 
ing  "  Jesus  loves  me,"  and  came  upon  a  company 
from  another  village  who  had  heard  in  some  way 
that  the  missionaries  were  coming  on  their  way 
back  home.  The  old  crippled  chief  was  with  them, 
hobbling  along  on  his  cane.  He  said  they  had 
been  in  such  a  dangerous  country  he  had  expected 
them  to  be  killed  by  the  natives,  and  he  was  so 
glad  they  had  escaped.  They  had  had  no  trouble 
at  all,  God  had  taken  care  of  His  children  who 
trusted  Him. 

It  is  no  easy  task  being  a  missionary  in  Africa. 
But  Martha  Drummer  has  found  out  that  "  every 
thing  human  is  human."  May  God  give  us  each 
an  understanding  heart,  that  need  in  any  guise 
may  draw  us,  and  that  we  may  recognize  our 
brothers  and  love  them  wherever  and  whatever 
they  maybe! 


XI 
SURE  FOUNDATIONS 

IN  Wake  County,  N.  C.,  James  Duns  ton  was 
born,  before  the  war,  but  born  free,  as  his 
father  had  been,  before  him.     His  father's 
parents  had  been  set  free  by  their  owner  before 
his  father's  birth;  but  why  the  thing  was  done, 
he  does  not  know. 

Before  the  Civil  War,  there  were  almost  half 
a  million  of  "free  people  of  color,"  as  they  were 
called,  in  the  United  States.  Most  of  them  were 
in  the  South,  and  the  causes  of  their  freedom 
were  numerous.  Frequently  a  master  allowed  a 
very  efficient  or  favored  slave  to  take  charge  of 
himself.  Such  a  man,  usually  skilled  in  some 
trade,  would  hire  himself  out,  paying  his  master 
a  stated  sum  each  year  and  keeping  the  rest  for 
himself.  In  this  way,  not  infrequently,  slaves 
saved  enough  to  buy  themselves;  and  sometimes 
they  were  able  to  buy  their  wives  and  children  too. 

Many  were  set  free  because  their  masters  did 
not  believe  in  slavery.  George  Washington's  will 
provided  that  all  his  slaves  should  be  set  free  at 
his  wife's  death;  but  Mrs.  Washington,  we  are 
told,  as  soon  as  she  learned  of  this  provision  in 
sisted  on  their  being  set  free  at  once.  Some  mas- 

148 


Sure  Foundations  149 

ters,  like  John  Kandolph,  of  Virginia,  not  only  set 
their  slaves  free,  but  bequeathed  money  to  buy 
land  for  them  in  a  free  state  and  to  transport  them 
thither.  In  this  way  several  prosperous  colonies 
were  planted  in  the  Middle  West. 

Some  slaves  were  set  free  in  gratitude  or  af 
fection,  after  especially  faithful  service.  A  few 
won  their  freedom  by  some  deed  of  courage  or 
sacrifice.  There  is  the  famous  case  of  the  slave 
in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  who  saved  St. 
Michael's  Church  from  the  flames.  This  quaint 
and  ancient  Episcopal  church,  one  of  the  oldest 
in  the  country,  whose  bricks  were  brought  from 
England  in  colonial  times,  and  in  which  many  of 
the  state's  most  distinguished  men  have  wor 
shiped,  is  dear  to  all  South  Carolinians  regard 
less  of  church  affiliations.  The  story  goes  that 
a  fire  which  swept  a  whole  section  of  the  city  was 
stayed  by  herculean  effort  before  it  reached  the 
church;  but  just  as  it  was  thought  to  be  safe,  a 
great  gust  of  wind  blew  a  bit  of  burning  timber 
high  against  the  old  wooden  steeple,  where  it 
caught  and  lodged.  A  groan  went  up  from  the 
crowd.  The  church  seemed  doomed,  for  human 
hands  could  never  reach  that  dangerous  peak. 
The  people  stood  in  silent  sorrow,  watching.  Sud 
denly,  from  a  slit-like  window  on  the  side  of  the 
steeple  there  appeared  a  man  who  began  to  climb 
up  towards  the  brand.  The  crowd  below,  thrilled 
by  his  heroism,  expected  every  second  to  see  him 


150         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

fall  to  Ms  death;  he  was  attempting  the  impos 
sible.  Yet,  as  if  by  miracle,  he  went  on.  Higher 
and  higher  he  crept.  At  last  he  reached  and 
seized  the  brand  and  flung  it  clear  of  the  beloved 
building,  down  to  the  churchyard,  harmless.  A 
great  shout  went  up — to  be  stilled  instantly. 
Could  the  man  possibly  come  down  safely!  Must 
he  pay  with  his  life  for  the  church?  The  people 
watched,  breathless,  till  he  reached  the  window 
again  and  disappeared  inside.  A  sigh  of  relief 
swept  over  the  crowd.  Who  was  he,  this  hero? 
They  searched  one  another's  faces  to  see  which 
of  their  everyday  companions  was  absent,  turned 
hero  in  an  hour.  The  church  door  opened — and  a 
Negro  slave  came  forth.  The  story,  as  told  long 
after  by  the  old  sexton,  goes  that  when  he  stepped 
out,  for  a  moment  Charleston  gasped — then  it 
cheered !  The  mayor  ran  forward  and  caught  the 
black  man's  hand,  and  after  the  mayor  came  the 
crowd.  The  slave 's  master,  who  was  among  them, 
then  and  there  gave  him  the  freedom  he  had  so 
bravely  earned. 

But  these  fortunate  freedmen  were  the  excep 
tion.  The  lot  of  such  people  was  often  harder 
than  that  of  slaves.  With  no  white  people  to  look 
to  for  protection  or  to  care  for  them  in  sickness  or 
old  age,  often  looked  upon  with  suspicion  by  their 
white  neighbors,  envied,  perhaps,  and  yet  despised 
by  the  slaves,  unable  to  mingle  freely  with  their 


Sure  Foundations  151 

own  race,  and  exploited  by  unscrupulous  white 
people  from  whom  they  had  no  protection,  life 
was  indeed  difficult  for  many  of  this  class. 

James  Dunston's  parents  found  it  so.  His 
father  rented  land  from  a  white  farmer  and 
worked  as  hard  as  he  could.  But  the  land  was 
poor,  nothing  was  known  about  scientific  agricul 
ture,  and  farm  machinery  was  a  thing  of  the 
future.  The  family  was  large,  and  the  task  of 
filling  the  hungry  mouths  was  almost  more  than 
the  father  and  mother  could  manage.  They  lived 
in  a  poor  little  cabin  and  knew  nothing  about  the 
most  ordinary  comforts  of  life.  But  both  parents 
were  devout  Christians,  and  they  brought  up  their 
children  with  Christian  ideals  of  honesty  and  kind 
ness  in  all  their  doings. 

James  had  one  great  ambition:  he  wanted  to 
learn  to  read.  But  at  that  time  there  were  no 
schools  for  Negroes  anywhere.  Had  he  been  a 
slave,  he  might  have  been  fortunate  enough  to 
find  among  "his  white  folks"  somebody — his 
Christian  mistress,  perhaps,  or  one  of  her  daugh 
ters — who  would  have  gratified  his  great  desire 
and  started  him  on  the  path  to  knowledge.  But 
who  was  there  to  teach  a  free  Negro,  a  bit  of  drift 
wood  on  the  current  of  life,  for  whom  nobody 
cared,  and  whose  existence  mattered  to  nobody! 
He  knew  what  a  wild  dream  his  was,  and  yet  he 
clung  to  it. 


152         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

With  poor  food  and  poorer  shelter  as  work's 
utmost  reward,  he  grew  up  working  on  his 
father's  rented  place.  When  he  was  fifteen  he  be 
came  a  Christian  and  joined  the  church.  This  was 
in  1866.  Not  long  after,  a  wonderful  thing  hap 
pened:  in  a  log  hut  not  very  far  away,  a  school 
was  opened  for  Negroes !  And  the  school-teacher 
was  a  Negro — miracle  number  two!  James  was 
tremendously  excited  about  it.  He  was  going  to 
that  school  whether  he  had  anything  to  eat  or  not. 
He  was  going  to  learn  to  read. 

The  boy  got  a  blue-backed  spelling  book  and 
started  in,  as  eager  a  scholar  as  ever  a  teacher 
had.  But  it  was  only  a  little  while  before  his 
hopes  were  all  in  ruins.  He  found  that  he  already 
knew  as  much  as  his  teacher  did.  He  had  come 
to  the  end  of  that  road.  The  poor  "teacher"  did 
not  even  know  his  own  ignorance.  He  knew  the 
alphabet  and  a  few  words  and  could  spell  out 
some  others.  What  more  in  the  way  of  learning 
could  one  aspire  to! 

James,  however,  was  determined  to  read  the 
whole  Bible  right  straight  through,  like — well,  like 
white  folks.  Now  that  he  had  the  key  to  words, 
he  meant  to  unlock  the  Book.  If  he  couldn't  have 
a  teacher  to  help  him,  he  must  work  it  out  for  him 
self,  for  read  he  must  and  would.  And  he  did. 

He  clung  to  his  blue-backed  speller  and  his 
Bible  until  he  mastered  both.  It  took  him  years 
to  do  it  in  the  brief  times  of  rest  between  his  long 


Sure  Foundations  153 

hours  of  work  in  the  field.  He  married,  mean 
time,  when  he  was  about  twenty  years  old,  and 
he  and  his  wife  started  in  on  the  same  treadmill 
life  his  parents  lived — renting  a  few  poor  acres 
and  a  little  cabin  and  working  from  sun-up  till 
dark  for  just  enough  to  keep  them  alive. 

But  after  a  while  James  Dunston  faced  the 
astonishing  fact  that  he  was  getting  a  little  ahead 
— a  few  dollars  left  at  the  end  of  the  year  and 
never  a  cent  of  debt !  New  vistas  opened  before 
him.  He  really  had  the  gift  of  farming  as  some 
have  the  gift  of  music.  For  one  thing,  he  dearly 
loved  it  and  felt  the  life  of  the  earth  very  close 
to  that  of  the  God  he  loved.  No  trouble  was  too 
small  or  too  great  for  him  to  take  with  growing 
things.  He  used  his  wits,  too,  and  profited  by 
his  own  experience  and  that  of  others,  as  far  as  he 
could  learn  it.  While  he  was  still  very  young, 
he  began  to  be  called  a  good  farmer. 

"The  white  folks  called  me  that,"  he  said,  with 
a  smile  as  shy  as  a  child's.  "I  hope  you  won't 
think  I'm  boasting — I  don't  mean  it  that  way — I 
just  worked  hard,  and  I  got  the  name  of  doing  well 
with  the  land." 

Seven  years  from  the  time  he  was  married, 
Dunston  bought  his  first  land,  four  whole  acres 
of  it,  and  all  his  very  own !  To  this  poor  f reed- 
man  of  the  third  generation  it  must  have  been  a 
wonderful  day.  He  still  rented  a  place  and  made 
a  little  more  than  a  living  on  it,  but  his  own  land 


154         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

was  clear  profit.  Before  long  the  four  acres  had 
grown  to  thirty-five.  He  felt  that  he  had  now 
mastered  adversity,  and  the  future  lay  plain  be 
fore  him,  so  far  as  material  things  were  con 
cerned. 

In  other  respects  it  was  not  at  all  clear.  He 
was  studying  his  Bible  harder  than  ever,  for  he 
had  learned  to  read  it  all  at  last  and  knew  much 
of  it  by  heart.  The  simplicity  and  sincerity  of 
his  faith  made  it  easy  for  him  to  see  how  simple 
a  thing  our  Lord's  way  of  living  is.  He  wanted 
with  all  his  heart  to  tell  other  people  about  it. 

"But  how  could  I  preach?"  he  asked,  that 
curious  child-look  again  in  his  eyes.  "I  was 
so  ignorant.  I'm  ignorant  yet.  And  for  me  to 
set  up  to  teach  my  people!  I  was  ashamed  of 
myself  for  even  thinking  about  it.  I  kept  telling 
myself  it  wasn't  the  Lord  calling  me,  it  wasn't 
anything  but  my  own  foolishness.  The  Lord 
couldn't  want  anybody  like  me  to  preach.  I  would 
put  it  clean  out  of  my  head.  And  then  it  would 
come  back.  I  couldn't  get  away  from  it.  It  kept 
on  that  way  for  years. 

"At  last  I  gave  in.  I  was  always  ready  to  give 
in  if  the  Lord  really  wanted  me,  of  course,  and 
at  last  it  looked  to  me  like  maybe  He  did,  and  I'd 
better  try  it  and  do  the  best  I  could.  That  would 
be  all  He'd  ask." 

Mr.  Dunston  began  to  preach  in  1882.  He  kept 
right  on  with  his  farming  all  the  week — he  had 


Sure  Foundations  155 

to  do  that  to  live — but  he  began  to  preach  to  his 
neighbors  right  there  where  he  lived,  and  they 
gave  him  two  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  year. 
All  this  time  he  was  taking  care  of  his  wife,  who 
was  an  invalid  until  her  death,  a  few  years  ago. 

"We  went  through  bad  times  here  in  North 
Carolina  after  the  War — reconstruction  times, 
folks  called  them.  It  was  bad,  and  it  stirred 
up  trouble  that  lasted  a  long  time.  There  were 
some  white  folks  wanted  to  use  the  colored  folks, 
especially  about  election  time.  It  was  too  much 
politics;  and  it  wasn't  for  our  good.  Our  folks 
were  so  poor  and  so  ignorant,  and  they  kept  ex 
pecting  somebody  to  come  along  and  do  some 
thing  for  them  or  give  them  something  instead 
of  their  getting  right  down  to  work  and  doing 
something  for  themselves  with  what  muscle  and 
sense  the  Lord  gave  them.  I  made  the  condition 
of  my  people  a  subject  of  prayer  for  years,  and 
their  relations  with  white  people,  too.  And  I 
saw  what  they  needed:  they  needed  to  work,  to 
fix  up  their  houses,  to  educate  their  children,  and 
quit  depending  on  politics." 

After  Dunston  understood  what  was  needed,  he 
tried  to  settle  some  of  the  Negroes  on  land  they 
could  buy  for  themselves.  He  wanted  to  help 
them  to  own  their  homes  and  be  independent. 
He  secured  two  thousand  acres,  and  let  the  people 
pay  for  it  as  fast  as  they  made  the  money.  By 
this  time  he  owned  three  hundred  acres  himself 


156         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

and  began  with  nothing,  so  he  knew  others  could 
do  the  same  if  they  would. 

"But  how  could  you  finance  so  big  a  project?" 
he  was  asked. 

He  gave  a  little  chuckling  laugh,  whether  of 
amusement  at  the  simplicity  of  any  one  who  could 
be  puzzled  over  a  matter  so  clear  or  of  happiness 
in  the  help  which  had  been  given  him,  one  could 
not  tell. 

"Why,  the  Lord  tended  to  the  finances,  ma'am: 
I  just  had  to  do  the  part  I  could  manage.  I  knew 
three  white  men  who  had  plenty  of  money,  and 
they  knew  me  and  trusted  me.  They  wouldn't 
have  lent  the  money  to  the  men  I  wanted  to  help 
—they  didn't  know  them  like  I  did.  But  they 
lent  it  to  me.  Then  I  picked  men  I  knew  I  could 
depend  on. 

"Every  man  on  that  two  thousand  acres  owns 
his  farm  and  house  now."  The  farms  run  from 
fifty  acres  to  a  hundred  and  sixty.  His  own  land 
was  right  alongside,  and  he  lived  with  the  men, 
plowing  and  working  and  running  his  farm,  and 
of  course  showing  them  everything  he  knew  and 
could  learn  about  right  ways  of  farming.  On 
Sundays  they  all  went  to  Mr.  Dunston's  church 
— that  first  church  he  took  when  he  began  to 
preach,  and  where  he  has  been  preaching  ever 
since.  They  built  up  a  good,  strong  community 
of  Christian  people,  happy  and  prosperous,  right 
there  on  their  own  land. 


Sure  Foundations  157 

Of  course,  they  had  to  have  a  school.  It  was  a 
long  time  ago  when  all  this  was  started,  and  school 
money  was  then  hard  to  get  even  for  white  people, 
and  much  harder  for  colored  people.  The  county 
board  of  education  agreed  that  if  they  would  get 
the  land  and  bear  half  the  cost  of  the  building, 
the  county  would  bear  the  other  half.  The  matron 
at  Shaw  University,  in  Raleigh,  had  some  lots  in 
the  village.  She  gave  enough  land  for  the  school, 
and  the  people  gave  their  part  of  the  building, 
some  in  money  and  some  in  work.  As  they  became 
able  to  do  so,  they  improved  the  school. 

As  time  went  on  other  villages  in  that  section 
of  the  county  grew,  and  the  pastor  felt  the  need 
of  more  churches.  He  persuaded  about  twenty 
of  his  members  at  Shiloh,  the  original  church,  to 
form  a  new  society  at  Mebane,  which  was  nearer 
their  farms  than  the  old  church.  There  he  built 
up  a  second  membership,  dividing  time  between 
the  two  churches  on  Sundays  and  working  on  his 
farm  and  with  his  neighbors  during  the  week. 
At  Mebane  he  preached  the  same  doctrines  that 
had  proved  so  effective  at  Shiloh:  that  religion 
meant  living  right  every  day  in  one's  home  and 
with  one's  neighbors;  and  that  it  also  meant  hon 
est  work,  thrift,  and  a  fair  chance  for  the  children. 

In  time,  after  the  same  manner,  a  third  and  a 
fourth  church  were  added  to  his  charge.  Then, 
the  two  thousand  acres  being  bought  and  paid 
for,  he  secured  fourteen  hundred  acres  more, 


158         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

which  is  still  in  process  of  being  paid  for  by  the 
settlers. 

"But  I'm  not  farming  myself  now/'  he  said, 
with  a  touch  of  what  would  have  been  regret  if 
he  had  not  been  so  sure  that  everything  in  life 
happens  just  right  for  the  man  who  trusts  in  God. 
"You  see,  I'm  seventy  years  old  now,  and  I'm 
not — well,  not  exactly  able  to  work  quite  so  hard. 
I  did  my  own  plowing  as  long  as  I  could  walk 
between  the  handles,  but  for  three  or  four  years 
now  I've  had  rather  to  oversee  things  and  tend 
to  my  preaching,  and  have  somebody  else  do  the 
real  work.  I've  been  farming  ever  since  I  was 
a  little  boy,  but  now  I've  got  to  where  most  of  my 
farming  is  done." 

"You've  helped  a  lot  of  people  with  your  farm 
ing,"  it  was  suggested. 

"Yes'm,  I  have,  with  the  Lord's  help.  And 
I've  been  able  to  help  with  money,  too.  'Tisn't 
so  much,  and  yet  in  all  these  years  it  counts  up, 
too.  Three  or  four  years  after  I  began  to  preach, 
I  promised  the  Lord  I'd  give  a  tenth  of  all  I  made 
to  His  work,  and  I've  always  had  a  little  some 
thing  ready  when  it  was  needed — twenty-five  dol 
lars  or  maybe  fifty;  I've  never  had  more  than 
fifty  at  one  time,  but  then  after  a  while  I'd  have 
some  more,  and  in  thirty-five  years  it's  right  sur 
prising  how  much  it  all  comes  to." 

I  was  talking  to  him  after  service  at  one  of  his 
four  churches.  I  had  gone  eighteen  miles  in  the 


Sure  Foundations  159 

country  from  Durham  to  see  the  man  whom  hard- 
headed  business  men  of  his  race  speak  of  as 
though  he  were  of  different  clay  from  the  ordinary 
run  of  people.  l  '  The  best  Christian  I  ever  knew, ' 9 
said  one  of  them;  and  another,  whose  own  re 
ligion  is  respected  and  believed  in  by  men  of  both 
races,  said  in  a  tone  which  lent  wonderful  mean 
ing  to  his  words,  "I  wish  you  could  see  him" — 
as  if  nothing  short  of  that  would  enable  one  to 
understand  quite  what  he  was  like. 

So  I  went  to  one  of  his  churches,  where  he  had 
been  holding  a  ten  days'  meeting.  It  is  a  well- 
kept  building,  freshly  painted,  and  seating  about 
two  hundred  people.  It  was  well  over  half  full, 
this  week-day  morning.  As  I  went  up  the  steps, 
I  heard  through  the  open  windows  the  quiet,  ear 
nest  voice  of  the  preacher.  He  had  closed  his 
meeting  the  night  before  and  baptized  his  con 
verts.  This  was  just  a  little  farewell  talk  with 
the  new  Christians  before  he  went  on  his  way. 
They  sat  on  the  two  front  benches,  with  a  goodly 
gathering  of  young  people  behind  them  and  the 
older  members  on  the  sides,  while  he  stood  behind 
the  altar  railing  and  told  them  what  being  a  Chris 
tian  means. 

He  may  not  know  very  much  about  books,  but 
he  knows  the  Book — he  was  saturated  with  it.  He 
said  nothing  about  creed  or  doctrines,  he  was  talk 
ing  about  the  life  of  Christ  in  the  heart.  He  stood 
there  in  his  spotless  linen  and  worn,  well-brushed 


160         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

clothes,  an  upright,  gray-haired  old  man  with  a 
fresh,  young,  unlined  face,  and  a  look  of  one  long 
acquainted  with  God  and  joyfully  at  peace  with 
Him.  There  was  something  child-like  about  him 
— his  simplicity,  his  lack  of  self-consciousness. 
When  the  service  was  over  and  I  spoke  to  him, 
he  talked  with  me  with  a  sort  of  gentle  shyness 
which  had  in  it  neither  distrust  nor  self -depre 
ciation. 

The  people,  young  and  old,  gave  him  all  their 
attention ;  the  entrance  of  a  white  stranger  passed 
almost  unnoticed.  They  were  country  people, 
but  they  were  all  comfortably  and  nicely  dressed, 
clean,  healthy,  prosperous-looking  people.  There 
were  a  number  of  men  in  middle  life  ir  the  congre 
gation — men  who  had  left  their  farms  in  working 
hours  to  hear  this  old  man  talk  about  his  Master. 
When  he  finished  and  went  down  to  the  front 
benches  to  shake  hands  with  the  new  members  and 
bid  them  Godspeed,  the  whole  membership  rose 
and  followed  his  example.  It  seemed  to  the  on 
looker,  as  they  filed  past,  that  in  the  older  faces 
was  reflected  something  of  the  preacher 's  look. 
One  old  woman,  especially,  had  almost  the  same 
air  of  seining  peace. 

Somehow  the  old  man  seemed  typical  of  Christ's 
work  for  men  in  all  countries  and  races  and 
through  the  centuries.  -Most  of  the  service  men 
need  cannot  be  given  by  learned  or  gifted  people 
— there  are  not  enough  of  them  to  go  around.  No 


Sure  Foundations  161 

unusual  equipment  is  necessary  to  really  help — no 
unusual  gifts ;  only  an  unusual  faithfulness  in  the 
use  of  ordinary  gifts,  such  faithfulness  as  any  of 
us  may  bring  to  our  service  if  we  will.  And  when 
we  bring  it,  He  uses  it  like  this.  All  over  the 
world  it  is  love  of  Him  in  somebody 's  heart  that 
has  laid,  and  is  yet  laying,  foundations  of  char 
acter,  of  opportunity,  of  higher  ideals,  of  cleaner, 
happier,  everyday  living  among  poor  and  hitherto 
unfriended  folk,  lifting  them  from  whatever  depth 
they  may  be  in  toward  that  high  end  for  which 
mankind  was  made. 

It  was  this  simple,  loving,  faithful  service  from 
some  who  had  come  to  know  God  that  first 
lifted  our  own  savage  ancestors,  and  many  an 
other  wild  race,  and  set  their  feet  on  the  long  road 
toward  Christian  civilization.  All  over  the  South 
to-day,  among  the  poorest,  this  force  is  at  work. 
It  is  like  the  lifting  power  of  light,  silently,  the 
world  around,  drawing  unnumbered  tons  of  cold, 
dark  earth  into  the  beauty  and  glory  of  green 
leaves  and  flowers  and  food  for  a  hungry  world. 

This  old  man,  James  Dunston,  as  he  goes  from 
village  to  village,  with  the  peace  of  God  in  his 
face,  is  one  of  the  real  builders  of  America 's  pros 
perity  and  progress.  It  is  people  of  his  spirit 
who  lay  the  real  foundations  of  race  or  national 
life — the  only  foundations  that  can  endure. 


XII 
A  SEED  OF  FLAME 

WHEN"  Negro  literature  is  mentioned, 
most  white  people  think  of  Paul  Lau 
rence  Dtmbar,  the  great  Negro  poet 
whom  William  Dean  Howells  discovered,  and  of 
whom  he  proclaimed  to  all  America  that,  Negro  or 
no  Negro,  here  was  a  writer  "of  innate  distinc 
tion  "  whose  " refined  and  delicate  art"  attained 
* i  a  very  artistic  completeness. ' '  Dunbar  has  been 
widely  read,  and  his  gifts  as  widely  acknowledged. 
To  many  white  people  he  still  represents  the  whole 
of  Negro  literature.  Others,  however,  add  a  few 
names  to  his.  No  one  who  has  read  Dr.  DuBois's 
Souls  of  Black  Folk  will  deny  that  it  is  litera 
ture  of  most  unusual  quality,  or  will  they  soon 
forget  its  haunting  beauty.  Eeaders  of  the  At 
lantic  Monthly  know  Chesnutt's  stories  and  the 
poems  of  Braithwaite,  whose  work  has  also  ap 
peared  in  the  Century.  Mr.  Braithwaite  is  dis 
tinguished  as  both  poet  and  critic,  having  served 
in  the  latter  capacity  on  the  staff  of  the  Boston 
Transcript  for  many  years.  Since  1913  he  has 
issued  a  yearly  anthology,  giving  the  best  poems 
of  the  year  which  have  appeared  in  American 
periodicals.  He  edits  the  New  Poetry  Review  of 

162 


A  Seed  of  Flame  163 

Cambridge,  and  is  general  editor  of  the  series  of 
Contemporary  American  Poets. 

Of  these  four  men,  Dunbar,  born  in  1872,  was 
the  youngest.  Of  the  still  younger  generation  of 
Negro  writers,  few  white  people  are  aware.  One 
reason  for  this  is  that  the  younger  men,  growing 
up  in  a  new  time,  are  passionately  concerned  for 
justice  to  their  race.  They  have  chosen  between 
protest  and  literature,  and  men  like  James  Weldon 
Johnson  and  others  of  his  class,  who  could  un 
doubtedly  achieve  distinction  in  the  latter  field, 
are  pouring  their  gifts  and  energies  into  other 
channels.  There  will  be  those  after  them,  they 
say,  to  write  essays  and  novels  and  poems ;  their 
work  is  something  more  pressing. 

But  this  story  is  of  none  of  these.  It  is  the 
story  of  one  who  barely  crossed  the  threshold  of 
manhood,  of  a  poet  most  of  whose  poems  were 
still  unwritten  when  his  long  struggle  with  suffer 
ing  ended  in  the  fulness  of  life  and  light. 

There  was  no  struggle  against  hardship  in  this 
boy's  youth,  no  fight  for  an  education  against 
odds.  His  father  had  waged  that  fight  and  won 
it  splendidly  before  the  boy  was  born.  The  son 
opened  his  baby  eyes  in  a  home  of  comfort  and 
refinement  and  grew  up  a  boy  of  brilliant  promise, 
an  only  son,  and  the  idol  of  his  parents. 

His  father,  Joseph  S.  Cotter,  for  whom  the  boy 
was  named,  was  the  son  of  a  slave  who  was  her 
self  the  daughter  of  free  Negroes,  but  in  some 


164         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Bac 

way  she  had  been  bonded  as  a  slave.  She  must 
have  seemed  a  strange  woman,  with  much  of  her 
life  beyond  the  understanding  of  the  slaves  about 
her.  She  worked  hard,  but  she  sang  a  great  deal, 
improvising  her  songs  as  she  worked.  She  made 
up  plays  and  acted  them  before  her  admiring  fel 
low-slaves.  She  was  a  deeply  religious  woman 
who  was  sometimes  caught  up  into  religious  ec 
stasies.  There  was  plainly  something  in  her  quite 
different  from  those  about  her.  In  thinking  of 
her  and  of  her  son  and  her  grandson,  in  whom  her 
own  strange  spark  of  life  flamed  up,  one  is  re 
minded  of  Browning's  lines: 

God  drops  his  seed  of  heavenly  flame 
Just  where  He  wills  on  earth. 

Looking  at  the  slave  woman,  "the  naked  unpre- 
paredness  of  rock"  seems  best  to  describe  the  bar 
ren  circumstances  into  which  the  seed  had  fallen 
for  her.  For  a  long  time  life  seemed  little  more 
propitious  for  her  son.  He  learned  to  read  when 
he  was  four  years  old,  but  forgot  all  about  it,  being 
long  unused  to  books ;  so  that  when,  in  his  early 
twenties,  he  entered  night-school,  he  had  to  learn 
the  alphabet  all  over  again. 

But  he  used  some  of  his  gifts  in  those  lean  years, 
nevertheless.  At  ten  years  of  age  he  was  work 
ing  with  boys  and  men  in  a  brickyard  in  Louis 
ville,  Kentucky.  He  was  set  upon  by  the  bigger 
boys  and  much  tormented.  Knowing  the  hopeless 
ness  of  physical  resistance,  Joseph  set  his  wits  to 


A  Seed  of  Flame  165 

work.  He  noticed  that  in  the  noon  hour  the  men 
gathered  around  those  of  their  number  who  could 
tell  a  good  story.  Why  shouldn't  boys  do  the 
same?  And  something  within  him  told  him  he 
could  furnish  the  stories.  So  he  tried  it  and  found 
it  worked  like  a  charm.  The  boys  forgot  to  tease 
and  crowded  round  him  with  growing  respect  and 
interest.  The  men,  noticing  their  absorption  from 
day  to  day,  began  to  stroll  over  to  investigate, 
and  before  long  there  was  only  one  group  at  the 
noon  hour — boys  and  men  gathered  around  the 
little  black  boy,  listening  to  the  tales  which  he 
daily  fashioned  for  them  out  of  his  own  fancies. 

At  the  age  of  twenty-two,  hunger  for  an  educa 
tion  stirred  within  him,  and  he  went  to  night- 
school,  beginning  with  the  alphabet.  In  two 
years'  time  he  was  prepared  to  teach,  and  from 
that  day  to  this  he  has  been  a  student.  He  be 
came  principal  of  the  Louisville  Coleridge-Tay 
lor  school,  named  in  honor  of  the  great  Negro 
musician  who  lives  in  London  and  is  ranked  as 
one  of  the  foremost  composers  of  our  time.  Mr. 
Cotter's  work,  however,  is  not  confined  to  the 
school.  When  Louisville,  first  of  all  Southern 
cities,  opened  playgrounds  for  colored  children, 
this  older  Joseph  Cotter  gave  them  a  story-hour. 
He  does  the  same  thing  at  the  two  colored 
branches  of  the  Louisville  Public  Library,  and 
is  helping  to  inspire  and  train  in  the  same  fine 


166         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

art  young  teachers  and  the  children  who  will  one 
day  teach.  He  owns  a  comfortable  home  and 
a  library  especially  rich  in  poetry.  He  has  his 
mother's  love  of  poetry  and  her  gift,  with  a  finer 
power  of  expression.  A  poet  himself,  he  first 
made  Dunbar  known  among  his  own  people  in  the 
South,  quick  to  acknowledge  in  another  the  gift 
he  himself  shared. 

Into  this  home  came  Joseph  Cotter,  Jr.,  in  Sep 
tember,  1895.  He  and  his  sister  Florence,  who 
was  two  years  older,  grew  up  together,  devoted 
friends  and  chums.  Florence  taught  Joseph  to 
read.  When  he  started  to  school  at  the  mature 
age  of  six,  he  had  read  about  thirty  books,  includ 
ing  the  readers  of  all  the  eight  grades  of  the 
public  schools  and  parts  of  the  Bible. 

The  parents,  seeing  how  eagerly  their  children 
learned,  very  wisely  held  them  back.  They  were 
both  rather  delicate,  and  their  father  and  mother 
felt  that  sound  bodies  were  of  the  first  importance. 
Several  times  they  refused  consent  when  the  chil 
dren's  teachers  would  have  given  them  more  rapid 
promotion ;  yet  even  so,  Florence  graduated  from 
high  school  at  sixteen  with  first  honors,  and  Jos 
eph,  two  years  later,  graduated  at  the  same  age, 
with  second  honors.  He  was  first  in  scholarship, 
but  some  bit  of  mischief  had  forced  his  teachers 
to  discipline  him,  and  so  he  was  given  second 
place. 

He  seems  to  have  been  a  real  boy,  for  all  his 


A  Seed  of  Flame  167 

.  i 

physical  delicacy  and  his  voracious  love  of  books. 
He  worked  hard  as  a  newsboy,  and  while  he  was 
still  a  little  fellow,  he  and  his  friends  formed  a 
grass-cutting  club  and  made  it  pay.  He  did  not 
waste  the  money  he  earned,  but  showed  self-con 
trol  and  good  sense  in  managing  it.  He  was  in 
terested  in  doing  all  he  could  for  himself. 

The  boy  was  an  enthusiast  in  athletics  and  dis 
tinguished  himself  in  them.  He  was  especially 
fond  of  football,  which  he  played  well  despite  his 
slight  physique.  He  always  said  it  took  brains 
rather  than  muscle  to  play  football  anyway,  and 
the  handicap  he  would  not  yield  to  could  not  block 
his  way.  While  he  was  in  high  school,  his  jaw  wasi 
broken  by  a  base-ball  and  had  to  be  wired  in  place. 
For  two  weeks  he  could  not  open  his  mouth,  and 
was  fed  liquids  through  a  straw;  but  he  kept  on 
attending  school,  doing  his  work  well. 

He  was  a  quiet  chap,  with  gentle  and  courteous 
manners;  but  if  he  felt  it  necessary,  he  would 
fight,  giving  his  entire  interest  and  attention  to 
the  matter  in  hand.  He  was  popular  because  he 
thought  of  others.  One  of  his  great  gifts  was 
the  power  to  draw  people  out,  and  he  was  always 
ready  to  help  them  discover  the  best  in  them 
selves. 

Joseph  was  as  fond  of  books  as  of  people.  The 
books  of  poetry  in  his  father's  library  especially 
appealed  to  him,  and  he  drank  deep  of  this  great 
spring  of  literature  and  of  life. 


168         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

That  lie  should  be  particularly  well-informed  on 
the  race  question  seems  a  matter  of  course;  the 
significant  thing  is  that  his  interest  was  never 
confined  to  it.  His  alert  and  eager  mind  went  out 
to  the  whole  world,  to  everything  that  concerned 
the  Race  of  Man,  to  which  all  races  belong.  He 
was  a  keen  student  of  world  history  and  world 
movements,  and  this  explains  the  poise  and  bal 
ance  of  his  outlook  on  the  problems  of  the  race 
with  which  he  himself  was  identified.  This  atti 
tude  is  well  shown  in  the  following  poem  which  is 
not  only  filled  with  a  courage  that  looks  facts  and 
the  world  squarely  in  the  face  but  is  saturated 
with  serenity  of  soul : 

The  Mulatto  to  His  Critics 

Ashamed  of  my  race? 

And  of  what  race  am  I? 

I  am  many  in  one. 

Through  my  veins  there  flows  the  blood 

Of  Red  Man,  Black  Man,  Briton,  Celt,  and  Scot, 

In  warring  clash  and  tumultuous  riot. 

I  welcome  all, 

But  love  the  blood  of  the  kindly  race 

That  swarths  my  skin,  crinkles  my  hair, 

And  puts  sweet  music  into  my  soul. 

"And  puts  sweet  music  into  my  soul."  That  is 
especially  the  dower  of  African  blood.  It  pours 
out  in  kindly  laughter  and  friendly  human  cheer 
fulness  amid  circumstances  which  would  turn  Nor 
dic  blood  to  gall  or  flame.  It  wells  up  to  God  in 
the  strange,  soul-moving  melody  of  the  "  spir 
ituals  "  out  of  slavery  itself.  White  slaves  have 


1'Ji'uiin  Ktmlio,  Louisville,  Kjj. 

JOSKIMI   S.  COTTER,  JR. 


A  Seed  of  Flame  169 

attained  spiritual  vision — Epictetus  is  undying 
witness  to  that,  but  did  ever  a  whole  race  of 
slaves  lift  their  hearts  in  song  before?  When  the 
races  of  men  are  all  developed  and  the  contribu 
tion  of  each  to  the  Race  of  Man  can  be  defined,  that 
of  the  African  race  will  be  based  on  this  very 
quality — that  it  "puts  sweet  music  into  my  soul." 

After  finishing  at  high  school,  Joseph  followed 
his  sister  to  Fisk  University  at  Nashville.  He  was 
there  for  a  year  and  a  half  when  he  developed 
tuberculosis  and  was  forced  to  come  home.  For 
six  years  he  fought  a  good  fight,  his  soul  conquer 
ing,  his  body  going  under,  slipping  down  toward 
the  last  surrender  in  increasing  weakness  and 
pain.  As  long  as  he  could  move,  he  worked.  He 
was  associate  editor  of  the  Louisville  Leader,  a 
position  which  suited  him  and  which  he  filled  with 
ability. 

In  December  of  the  year  in  which  Joseph  left 
the  university,  his  sister  Florence  was  stricken 
with  the  same  disease  and  came  home,  as  he  had 
done,  to  go  under  the  doctor's  care.  She  died  just 
a  year  later,  in  December,  1914. 

This  was  a  heavy  sorrow.  The  family  was  a 
deeply  affectionate  one,  and  the  tie  between  the 
brother  and  sister  was  unusually  close.  It  was 
while  visiting  her  grave,  some  months  after  her 
death,  that  the  impulse  came  upon  him  to  ex 
press  his  grief  in  verse,  and  he  wrote  there  the 
lines,  "To  Florence,"  which  began  his  career  as 


170         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

a  poet.  He  recognized  clearly  that  it  was  a  ques 
tion  of  but  a  short  time  before  his  own  body  would 
be  laid  beside  hers,  but  he  went  on,  meeting  life 
as  best  he  could  from  day  to  day,  with  failing 
strength  but  with  a  valiant  heart.  He  had  the  best 
of  medical  care,  and  the  white  physician  who  at 
tended  him  said  that  for  courage,  patience,  and 
cheerfulness,  he  was,  during  the  six  years  of  his 
illness,  the  most  remarkable  patient  he  had  ever 
had. 

One  of  his  special  friends  in  the  grass-cutting 
club  of  his  boyhood  was  Abram  Simpson,  the 
youngest  colored  captain  in  the  World  War,  and 
now  a  banker  in  Louisville.  While  he  was  facing 
death  in  France,  Joseph,  his  friend,  was  facing  it 
here  at  home  in  the  silence  of  his  quiet  room. 

But  no  one  who  suffers  much  and  yet  turns  to 
those  about  him  a  steady  and  cheerful  spirit  can 
achieve  that  victory  without  times  of  fierce  inward 
struggle.  Yet  in  the  little  book  of  poems  published 
a  year  before  his  death  there  is  but  one  hint  of  dis 
couragement.  It  is  this  short  poem : 

Supplication 

I  am  so  tired  and  weary, 

So  tired  of  the  endless  fight, 
So  weary  of  waiting  the  dawn 

And  finding  endless  night, 
That  I  ask  but  rest  and  quiet — 

Kest  for  the  days  that  are  gone, 
And  quiet  for  the  little  space 

That  I  must  journey  on. 

Next  to  this,  however,  we  find  the  following: 


A  Seed  of  Flame  171 

The  Goal 

I  have  found  joy, 

Surcease  from  sorrow, 
From  qualms  for  today 

And  fears  for  tomorrow. 

I  have  found  love 

Sifted  of  pain, 
Of  life's  harsh  goading 

And  worldly  disdain. 

I  have  found  peace 

Still-born  from  grief, 
From  soul's  bitter  mocking, 

And  heart's  unbelief. 

Now  may  I  rest, 

Soul-glad  and  free; 
For,  Lord,  in  the  travail 

1  have  found  Thee. 

That  his  pure  joy  in  the  beauty  of  the  world 
about  him  was  fresh  and  keen  this  lyric  witnesses, 
almost  singing  itself : 

Rain  Music 

On  the  dusty  earth -drum 

Beats  the  falling  rain, 
Now  a  whispered  murmur, 

Now  a  louder  strain. 

Slender  silvery  drumsticks, 

On  an  ancient  drum, 
Beat  the  mellow  music, 

Bidding  life  to  come. 

Chords  of  earth  awakened, 

Notes  of  greening  spring, 
Rise  and  fall  triumphant 

Over  everything. 

Slender  silvery  drumsticks 

Beat  the  long  tattoo — 
God,  the  great  musician, 

Calling  life  anew. 


172         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

The  little  book  of  poems  published  before  his 
death  takes  its  name,  The  Band  of  Gideon,  from 
the  first  poem  in  the  book,  a  weird  fancy  of  storm- 
driven  black  clouds,  which  seems  akin  to  some  of 
the  old  "  spirituals. ' '  The  book  is  manifestly  the 
work  of  youth  and  as  such,  immature.  "A 
Prayer "  voices  his  own  consciousness  of  this,  and 
his  desire  to  work  out  in  well-wrought  lines  that 
which  he  sees  with  the  eyes  of  his  soul  but  cannot 
yet  fully  express. 

A  Prayer 

As  I  lie  in  bed, 

Flat  on  my  back, 

There  passes  across  my  ceiling 

An  endless  panorama  of  things — 

Quick  steps  of  gay-voiced  children, 

Adolescence  in  its  wondering  silences, 

Maid  and  man  on  moonlit  summer's  eve, 

Women  in  the  holy  glow  of  motherhood, 

Old  men  gazing  silently  through  the  twilight 

Into  the  beyond. 

O  God,  give  me  words  to  make  my  dream-children  live. 

The  strongest  poem  in  the  book,  with  one  ex 
ception,  is  a  sonnet,  uTo  the  Negro  Soldiers." 
Confined  to  his  bed  by  suffering,  he  was  now  often 
too  weak  to  write  or  to  think,  but  his  heart  was 
with  his  comrades  who  had  gone  to  the  front,  and 
with  them  he  hoped  most  passionately  that  the  loy 
alty  and  sacrifice  of  Negro  Americans  during  the 
war  would  win  for  the  race  a  better  justice  here 
at  home  and  fuller  respect  as  citizens. 


A  Seed  of  Flame  173 

To  the  Negro  Soldiers 

They  shall  go  down  unto  Life's  Borderland, 
Walk  unafraid  within  that  Living  Hell, 
Nor  heed  the  driving  rain  of  shot  and  shell 

That  round  them  falls;  but  with  uplifted  hand 

Be  one  with  mighty  hosts,  an  armed  band 

Against  man's  wrong  to  man — for  such  full  well 
They  know.    And  from  their  trembling  lips  shall  swell 

A  song  of  hope  the  world  can  understand. 

All  this  to  them  shall  be  a  glorious  sign, 
A  glimmer  of  that  resurrection  morn 

When  age-long  faith,  crowned  with  a  grace  benign, 
Shall  rise  and  from  their  brows  cast  down  the  thorn 

Of  prejudice.     E'en  though  through  blood  it  be, 

There  breaks  this  day  their  dawn  of  liberty. 

Joseph  Cotter's  best  work  was  done  for  the 
most  part  after  the  publication  of  his  book.  It  is 
found  in  a  sequence  of  nineteen  love-sonnets  of 
remarkable  beauty  and  workmanship  for  so  young 
a  man.  They  are  published  in  the  A.  M.  E.  Zion 
Quarterly  Review  for  the  third  quarter  of  1920. 
The  last  one,  especially,  of  the  little  child 

Who  never  was,  nor  is,  nor  e'er  shall  be. 

is  of  a  moving  and  haunting  beauty.  He  left  these 
sonnets,  with  a  few  short  poems  and  one-act  plays, 
unpublished  at  his  death. 

He  sank  toward  death  for  years,  fighting  at 
every  step.  At  the  last,  sight  and  hearing  failed 
him,  yet  his  whispered  words  were  still  of  courage 
and  cheer.  He  died  in  his  father's  arms  on  the 
third  day  of  February,  1919. 

Considering  his  youth  and  the  heavy  handicap 
of  illness  during  those  few  years,  when,  even  in 


174         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

full  vigor,  his  powers  would  but  have  been  put 
ting  forth  their  first  buds,  his  literary  achieve 
ments  are  full  of  promise — a  promise  which  in 
God's  own  time  will  find  fulfilment  in  a  broader 
life  than  this.  One  quality  of  his  work  is  its  di 
rect  and  full  sincerity.  This  quality  blazes 
through  what  is,  to  the  writer,  the  strongest  of 
all  his  poems.  There  is  no  bitterness  in  it,  nor 
was  there  any  in  his  life,  yet  he  knew  the  facts 
— knew  them  better  and  knew  more  of  them, 
doubtless,  than  we  white  people  ever  do.  And 
what  he  knew  he  felt.  He  was  fully  identified  in 
his  own  heart  and  will  with  the  Negro  race — his 
people,  entirely  his  people,  though  strains  of  many 
races  mingled  in  his  life.  But  feeling  as  he  did 
the  injustices  from  which  his  people  suffer,  he  asks 
without  rancor  or  reproach  of  his  white  brother: 

And  What  Shall  You  Say? 

Brother,  come! 

And  let  us  go  unto  our  God. 

And  when  we  stand  before  Him 

I  shall  say — 

"Lord,  I  do  not  hate, 

I  am  hated. 

I  scourge  no  one, 

I  am  scourged. 

I  covet  no  lands, 

My  lands  are  coveted. 

I  mock  no  peoples, 

My  peoples  are  mocked." 

— And,  brother,  what  shall  you  say? 

The  longer  one  thinks  of  it,  the  deeper  that 
question  presses  in,  the  more  one  feels  its  quiet, 


A  Seed  of  Flame  175 

inescapable  power.  The  words  fit  the  thought  and 
the  thought  the  truth — the  truth  as  regards  a 
whole  great  section  of  American  life — as  a  glove 
fits  the  hand.  It  is  a  question  which  will  even 
tually  compel  its  answer,  and  as  it  is  answered, 
will  the  fate  of  America  be.  This  book,  put  forth 
by  the  Council  of  Women  for  Home  Missions  and 
the  Missionary  Education  Movement  in  the  inter 
est  of  justice  and  kindness  between  the  races,  is 
itself  one  of  many  indications,  small  and  great, 
that  in  these  later  years  the  Christian  mind  is 
turning  toward  the  right  answer. 

For  too  long  white  Christians  felt  that  individ 
ual  kindness  and  justice  to  individual  Negroes  was 
the  full  measure  of  Christian  obligation.  In  the 
great  awakening  now  upon  the  South  is  seen  and 
felt  the  birth  of  a  new  consciousness  and  a  new 
conscience — a  sense  of  collective  responsibility  for 
community  conditions.  The  North,  industrially  a 
generation  in  the  lead,  came  by  a  social  conscious 
ness  and  a  social  conscience  before  the  South.  But 
North  and  South,  there  is  needed  a  fuller  awak 
ening  as  regards  both  justice  and  kindness  to  our 
Negro  brethren  as  a  race.  The  individuals  who 
have  understood  this  are  drawing  together  all 
over  the  country,  and  in  every  state  their  num 
bers  grow.  A  new  public  opinion  is  creating  new 
alignments,  and  old  prejudices  and  foolish  fears 
are  "crystallizing  out"  in  the  process.  True  ra 
cial  integrity  is  seen  to  involve  the  self-respect  of 


176         In  the  Vanguard  of  a  Race 

each  race  and  mutual  respect  between  the  races. 
To  keep  each  race  separate  and  pure  no  man  of 
either  race  must  hate  or  scourge  or  mock  or  de 
spise  the  other.  All  such  enmity  must  cease.  The 
young  people  coming  on  as  well  as  those  who  are 
now  leaders  must,  in  the  presence  of  God,  settle 
the  question, 
"And,  brother,  what  shall  you  say?" 


0455 


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DUE   AS  STAMPED  BELOW 

BCT»    PHL         MAR  2 

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FORM  NO   DD  6    40m   10 '77      UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 

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